Meetings
by Abinikai
Summary: Dumbledore figures that Snape needs to get over his hate for Harry and arranges for them to meet once a week. What will Snape realize about himself? And what will Harry discover? HPSS. WARNING: SLASH AHEAD. COMPLETE!
1. Meetings

**Year:** Harry's 6th Pairings: HP/SS, RW/HG Rating: PG so far, just because I believe you should have your parents know when you're reading slash (if you're young, that is). Will escalate to PG-13 at least, possibly R, depending on how I feel when I'm writing that part.   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. Ask my muse.  
Johnny: Nope, she doesn't! She's dead broke. If she owned it, she could actually afford decent clothes for me!  
Me: Hey! I resent that. I think you look quite nice without shirts on. For all those who are wondering, Johnny is actually Johnny Depp's miniature clone.   
**Author's Note:** I just got bored. Laaa-deee-daaa. See? I'm still bored. Pity those who actually live with me and suffer through my boredom. I sure do. Especially Johnny. He gets the brunt of my boredom. Johnny grimaces and nods You should pity him the most.   
**WARNING:** --sirens blare-- There will be slash in the future! I repeat, there WILL be slash! If you are squeamish to the idea of two guys having a relationship, then GO AWAY. Those who dare flame after I have given you this WARNING will suffer a very painful death at my hands. This death involves my pet radioactive green flying monkeys, you and my malicious laughter. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING. DO NOT READ OR FLAME IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SLASH.

* * *

"Potter, stay behind. I am afraid we must...discuss something." Snape could not keep the resentment out of his voice as those dreadful words left his mouth. Hermione and Ron could not hide their surprised, curious and fearful looks, along with the rest of the Gryffindors. And Malfoy could not keep the smirk off of his face.  
  
Harry tried to keep the swelling sense of doom controlled inside of him; this could not be good. Not at all. The color in Harry's face drained as the students filed out of the classroom and his knuckles grew white. Hermione and Ron threw him one last sympathetic look and motioned that they'd talk after Transfigurations, and Malfoy gave him one last smirk, turned, threw his nose in the air and glided--there was no other word for it--out of the room.  
  
Harry sat stone still at his desk, terrified of what was to come. What did he do wrong? What had he done to make Snape so angry? All Harry could do was stare at his desk, knowing that Snape was looking at him.  
  
"I am sure you are wondering why you are here," said Snape coldly, and Harry got the distinct impression that he did not want to be here. At this, he looked up to see the disdain on Snape's face. He was obviously not enjoying this as Harry thought he would. Harry found the senses to nod after a moment, not daring to ask the thousands of questions that were running rampant in his mind.  
  
"The Headmaster, after many long, annoying talks, has convinced me that is in my best interest to rethink my abhorrence of you and your kind." Snape could not keep the disgust out of his voice at the last bit, though his voice had remained relevantly unemotional until then. "In other words, he has ordered me to not loath you."  
  
Instead of answering the questions in his head, this only created more. Harry was vaguely aware that his jaw had dropped slightly and he still had not said a word. He remedied his slack jaw, but still could not bring himself to voice his concerns.  
  
"Due to my...change of opinion of you over the past two years, mostly because of the Triwizard Tournament and the supposed losses you suffered and your...heroics last year, I have agreed to this without...further protestation. Though I am seriously considering protesting some more."  
  
At this, Harry finally gathered the courage to say something. "Then why don't you? I'm sure we'd both be much happier," if Snape was ever happy, "if this was not happening." Harry still did not see his part in this, but he figured he still didn't want to do it.  
  
"I am afraid we will have no choice in the matter. I have already told the Dark Lord that my plan is to get closer to you and convince you to trust me so that he does not hear rumors and suspect something. What's done is done."  
  
"And why wasn't I told of this and given a decision?" asked Harry incredulously.  
  
"I am sorry to inform you, Mr. Potter, that the world does not revolve around you. Professor Dumbledore was confident that he already knew your answer to this...torture, and did not feel it necessary to involve your opinion, as it would not have mattered anyways."  
  
"And what does this...mean? For me, I mean."  
  
"Again, Mr. Potter, the world does not revolved around you. Professor Dumbledore has decided that we will have weekly...sessions together that we may use to our own discretion. He only requires that we be together and that no one is hurt or killed in the process...much to my disappointment." Harry stared at Snape stonily. "So I will see you here tonight, at seven thirty sharp. Do not entertain the thought of being a second late, Potter. Now, go to your next class, as I am sure your fan-club is missing your presence dearly and will soon send a search party with their highest hopes being to find your body."  
  
Harry walked out of the potions classroom in a daze, and spent the rest of the day in the same state of mind. Why? Why him? Why now, of all times? He went up to Dumbledore to protest it all, but all the Headmaster did was smile mysteriously and tell Harry that he thought Harry'd be surprised at what he might find out. He also took a few moments to tell Hermione and Ron, throwing a tantrum while he was at it, and becoming more enraged when Hermione said that it might actually be beneficial.  
  
Ron backed up Harry, though. "What's 'beneficial' about spending time with Snape, of all people? He'll likely hex Harry into next week!"  
  
"Ron, I hate to tell you this and 'burst your bubble,' so to speak," Harry couldn't help but smile at Ron's confusion with the Muggle analogy, "but if Harry and Snape can at least come to tolerate each other, then they will both be more prepared to benefit each other in the fight against Voldemort, and who knows what other good things could come of it."  
  
"And who knows what other bad things could come of it, 'Mione! Snape could kill Harry!"  
  
"But he won't. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. Harry told us that himself."

* * *

Harry trudged down to the Potions classroom, feet seeming to drag on forever. It was only the beginning of his sixth year--who knew how long this punishment (for it could be called nothing else) would last.  
  
Harry knocked resignedly on the door and stood awkwardly in the doorframe.  
  
"Doors are made for entering, Mr. Potter. Do not stand in one like a git," said Snape from inside his office. Harry could tell that this would be a tense night. "Sit down, and don't think about making yourself comfortable. With any luck, you won't be here long."  
  
"I wasn't going to get 'comfortable,'" muttered Harry under his breath. He waited in one of the desks for Snape to come out of the room.  
  
Still dressed in what seemed the only robes he owned, Snape swept out of his office as menacingly as ever. Harry grimaced--it would be a long hour.  
  
They sat in silence for a good ten minutes before Snape began to talk. "As I told you earlier, I do not...agree with this...arrangement. However, Dumbledore insisted that I try to make conversation instead of intimidating you by staring at you for the entire evening."  
  
"Who says you would intimidate me if you did stare at me all evening?" asked Harry, more to break his own silence than anything else. Immediately he regretted his words--surely Snape would deduct points from his house.  
  
But he didn't. Instead, Snape said, "Unfortunately Dumbledore refused to allow me to punish you for any insolence I may receive, saying that your fear for the loss of points from your house would not help our 'growing relationship,' so do not think that you have gotten away with that remark; be sure that I will find other ways to punish you for it. As for my intimidation of you--I have always intimidated you, and will continue to do so. I am sure that your stupid Gryffindor courage would not stand up to an entire evening of my constant stares. Not that I would want to stare at you for an entire evening--more likely than not, it would end up bolstering your already-too-big ego."  
  
Harry kept his mouth shut, as at least part of what Snape had said was true- -Harry was not sure that he could stand an entire hour of Snape's unnervingly cold stare.  
  
"Anyways, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Dumbledore will not let us sit in silence for the entire evening, so he has given me a list of things I can use as... 'small talk,' as he called it." Snape glanced down at a paper, the disdain showing on his face. "What is your favorite subject?" he asked after a long moment of silence, the words coming thickly and awkwardly out of his mouth. 

Harry couldn't help it--he burst out laughing. Snape looked as if he would murder Harry then and there despite Dumbledore's orders. Once Harry had calmed down considerably (though a few chuckles still escaped every few moments), Snape asked what Harry found so funny, as this was obviously not "a joyous occasion."

"Well," chuckle, "it's just so," laugh, "ironic. You and me," giggle, "sitting alone in a room," snicker, "talking about," and here Harry had to stop for a moment, as another fit of laughter took him, "my favorite subject." Harry giggled for another minute, then, seeing Snape's humorless expression, attempted to sober up.

"I do not find this situation humorous," said Snape, and Harry restrained from rolling his eyes--well, duh, "and do not think you should be taking it so lightly. I will see you next Wednesday."

Harry took the hint and picked up and left, accidentally letting another chuckle escape before he left the room. It had definatly not been an hour, but if Dumbledore expected them to last an entire hour--even half an hour--the first, second, third or more times, then he was definately expecting more than could be achieved under even the best circumstances.

When Harry told his friends, unable to stop laughing during the story, they ended up rolling on the floor with mirth along with him. It was too ironic--the Boy Who Lifed and a former Death Eater, current spy, who had a long history of rivalry that even dated back to Harry's father, attempting to reconcile their differences and possibly become friends.

Harry almost couldn't wait to see what the next week had in store, as this day had alreadly proven to be memorable.

* * *

A/N: Tell me...should I kill it off now, while I still have my dignity? Or do you really want me to continue this? Or do you even care at all? Well, I have the next chapter all but finished, but I won't post it until I have votes. Kill, continue or indifferent? Oh, and let me know how well they're in cannon...I'm kind of worried about that. Please R&R. Bash, criticize or praise, I don't care. But just let me know that it's being read. Cookies and kudos for those who respond!

Johnny: Ta-ta for now! And be happy that her mother made the cookies! ducks Hey! stop throwing your books at me! They're heavy! runs away Aaah! She's attacking me! Help! Muse abuse! Muse abuse!


	2. Arguements

**Rating**: Still PG, just because I believe that since I do not write fluffy fics and I've already said there will be slash, you should ask your parents before you read my story.   
**Disclaimer**: Johnny: When she claims to own it, I'll make sure to let you know. Until then, know that she is only using these characters for her malicious plot bunnies that refuse to let her rest. And her own sick fantasies.  
Me: you do realize that you're the one giving me these ideas, right, Johnny?  
Johnny: Dammit! I've incrimated myself! Does this include that one  
idea...where he was...? I nod That was my idea? Ewwww...   
**Author's Note**: Aren't you glad I updated? I am. Thanks to all my reviewers! **Minathia**: Yeah...uh...would you kill me if I told you I picked that up off you? Hope not. Thanks anyways! **Lyssreader**: How can I express my gratitude for picking up my mistake? THANKS!!!! gives you many cookies Let me know if you want anything else!

* * *

Harry found that his anticipation for the next meeting severely diminished over that next week. Potions had become even worse than it had been before, if that was possible--and not just for Harry; Snape made the entire class suffer. By then, the entire school knew of Snape and Harry's meetings, and most people were offering their sympathy, though Gryffindor students were testing their patience as more points than ever before were being taken away every day. Some of the other teachers took pity on the house and attempted to give small rewards to Gryffindor, but even combined, they could not compensate for the points that Snape took away at every chance.  
  
That Wednesday, Harry couldn't keep the venom out of his remarks all day. People kept giving him their condolences and attempting to better Harry's mood, though it wasn't working; if anything, the continual sympathy angered Harry even more.  
  
It was safe to say that Harry was not looking forward to the meeting that evening. It was also safe to say that Harry was going to make Snape's evening torture--even if that meant staying the entire hour and doing every possible thing to annoy Snape, which meant that more points would be taken away, of course. But that just mean that Harry would have to work a bit harder to re-earn those points, which he was fully willing to do.  
  
So that evening Harry stormed down to Snape's classroom, making sure to be a few minutes late, and entered without even knocking.  
  
"I see you decided to join me, Mr. Potter," Snape said disdainfully.  
  
"Nothing, as of late, seems to be my decision."  
  
"No, you would think that, wouldn't you? Ah, well."  
  
"What do you propose we do for this hour?" asked Harry, unable to squelch the joy he felt in saying that and in so obviously annoying the professor.  
  
However, Snape just stared at him for a moment. After a long, stony silence, he finally asked, "What did you do." Not a question, a statement; also without any concern or interest insinuated--just asking for a simple statement.  
  
"Oh, a lot!" said Harry, deciding to give a lengthy answer to the question, figuring that the talking would only annoy Snape; having nothing else to do also contributed to this decision.  
  
And so, Harry embarked on a story that lasted more than thirty minutes. He talked about his classes, the professors, what his friends said and did, what he said and did, and told every little story that accompanied this. To tell many of these stories, he also had to give a little background story that might have happened a few days before. Neville had broken his wrist again; Hermione and Ron had yet another spat (Harry was beginning to think they should get together, and made sure to point this out to Snape and give a few reasons for it). He made sure to add in the things the Slytherins said and did, and especially the things Gryffindor did to get back--that seemed to annoy Severus the most, of course. That, and the soul fact that he was even talking.  
  
By the end of his day, their time was nearly up--only a few more minutes and he would have stayed the full hour, Harry noted proudly to himself. To make up for the last few minutes, Harry asked Snape how his day went.  
  
"So after you hog the conversation with the trivial events that happened during your day, you finally deign to ask me how mine was. How considerate of you, Potter. But I am sorry to inform you that it is none of your business. Dumbledore did not insist that you get to know me."  
  
At this, Harry became angered. "First, it was YOU who asked the question, and I did not see you protesting, I might add. There's little ELSE for us to talk about, unless you can come up with something." Harry noticed that his voice was getting louder with every word, but he didn't care. "Second, you're wrong. I DO know some things about you, Professor. First, I know that you are a greasy, slimy git that hates all Gryffindors. I know that you especially hate me because of my parents, whom I could not control the actions of; I am not them, therefore you should not blame ME for what THEY did. I know you are a former Death Eater-turned spy, and I know that Dumbledore seems to like you for some reason he has yet to explain to the rest of us. And lastly, I know that no matter what I do, you will never accept me--you will always hate me, the "Famous Harry Potter," just because I breathe, and nothing will change your mind, you obdurate little prick!" By this time, Harry was shouting and his face was probably red. This wouldn't be good for next week, he mused.  
  
Just because he was on a role, he continued. "And here's another thing, you predictable bastard: you will most likely dock every single point off Gryffindor for things that do not matter--things like looking the wrong way or dropping a quill--just because I PISSED YOU OFF. Really, you should practice some anger management--it's not right to take out your anger on other people for no reason at all."  
  
With that, Harry stormed out of the room, and though he did not know it at the time, he left a very speechless Potions Master. Snape was glad that Harry had left in such a flurry, as he had not been at such a loss of words since he had been young and ignorant, and he wasn't sure he could come up with an adequate retort to what Harry had said.  
  
Harry had been dead on about one thing, for sure, he mused (though he hadn't been far off the mark on all the other things in the first place). He would be docking many points from Gryffindor in that next week. And for every point he docked off the others, he would dock ten more off Harry.

* * *

However, when the opportunity presented itself, Snape just...didn't. It wasn't that he didn't have the heart for it, or that he was scared to take away the points; he just...didn't take them away. Sure, he took away more points than necessary and caught a few of the things he would normally overlook, but he didn't catch all the things he was planning on taking points away for. He had spent all that night planning what he would take points away from-- "Mr. Longbottom, your sneeze has disrupted my train of thought, and I have lost the idea for torturing Potter that I was planning. Ten points from Gryffindor"--and other interesting things like that.  
  
But when the time came, he just didn't. He had no idea what had come over him--surely Potter's speech had not affected him that much; yet he still did not take away the points. This thought disturbed him greatly. How had Potter affected him that much? What had he said that Snape had not already known, that Snape did not care about, and that had affected him so deeply? What was it?  
  
Snape was tempted to ask Potter to repeat everything he had said, but that seemed silly. Instead, he mulled over it inside his head, taking off the occasional point when he came across something was especially infuriating. But he could not find it, no matter how many times he went over it in his head.  
  
He would just have to wait for the next meeting, which he found he was looking to with an anxious feeling of--what? anticipation? dread?--in the pit of his stomach. He found he could not place the feeling, whatever it was. Indeed, it seemed like a mixture of things, though he could not pin down a single one in itself.  
  
So he found himself anxiously awaiting the next time he would talk with Harry, though for what reason he did not know.

* * *

A/N**:** yes, the use of "Harry" instead of "Potter" is deliberate there. If you did not take note of that change in mind, I suggest you do so now and ponder on its meaning. 


	3. Dreams

**Rating**: PG-13. Getting worse...and by worse, I mean more...slashy.   
**Disclaimer**: Johnny: She doesn't own it, never has owned it, and never will own it.  
Me: Waaah! I wanna own Severus and Harry and Remus and Sirius  
and....waaaaah!  
Johnny: But if that happened you'd make Harry Potter the slash book of the century. And with the poor little kiddies reading it, we can't have that!  
Me: Waaaaaaaah! Author's Note: Awww! Thanks so much for my reviews. **Mikito, bookwmnjan, minathia, Pilas, Kerstyn** (congrats!)**, missa, Aria-fic, hermionelurver333, FelicityJamie **(it really is too bad you can't see how big my smile got at reading that--I'm touched!)**, Amanda Saitou, Pure Black, Mauraders-Lover, Andromeda Snape-Malfoy. **They make me smile. big grin See? I'm smiling! 

* * *

Harry paused before knocking on the door, but the decision to just turn around and walk back to the dorms was taken away when Snape opened the door for him. "Come in, Mr. Potter. I am sure you do not wish to stand outside my door all day, and I know that you were not going to disobey Professor Dumbledore by skipping this "friend time," as he calls it, he has scheduled for us."  
  
Harry sighed and resigned himself to following Snape into the classroom. They sat in silence for a few minutes, which was broken by Snape asking, "What did you do today?" The words seemed force, but instead of it being a statement, it was a question this time. He had the choice to answer or not.  
  
"Nothing much. Classes were the same as they always are--boring. Hermione and Ron got in another fight. Neville fell down the stairs." Harry stopped, not wanting to repeat last week's fiasco, though he was sure he could find something just as fun to annoy Snape with. Instead, he asked in the civilest voice he could muster, "How was your day?"  
  
"Fine, thank you." Snape's tone of voice told Harry that he believed the conversation over.  
  
"What did you do?" Harry asked, attempting to keep the conversation going. He didn't want it to be as one-sided as last time.  
  
"Nothing that really concerns you at all." Snape's voice was even more final than last time, warning Harry to not take it further.  
  
"It'd be a lot easier to keep a conversation going if you actually participated in it, Professor. Then maybe we'd get somewhere."  
  
"I'll have you know that I am participating in this conversation."  
  
"Is this how you talk in every conversation you have?" A nod from Snape. "Wow. I pity those people who try to even begin to talk to you. Between the scathing remarks and few words, it'd be hard to ever get to know you."  
  
"I don't want people to know me, Mr. Potter. Unlike you, I enjoy having my privacy."  
  
"Who says I like being one of the most famous people in the wizarding world?" asked Harry heatedly. Then his voice became more resigned. "Because I don't. Everyone looks at me to save their lives, yet I didn't even know wizards existed until I was eleven. I can barely cast magic, yet I'm supposed to defeat--kill--Voldemort." Harry didn't notice Severus flinch at the use of the Dark Lord's chosen name, so he just continued. "I can't even hold a real conversation with a wizard without asking what one thing or another is, and I lived in a hell-hole for eleven years and every summer since, and no one wants to know me for me, they all just want to know the "Boy Who Lived," and I hate that name, and it's just not fair," Harry finished in a rant. His words had come in a rush and Snape could barely understood them, but after a moment of sorting it out he actually felt a little pity for the boy. But that feeling of pity was quickly brushed away as stupid.  
  
"I fail to see how the entire world revolves around you, Mr. Potter, and I happen to know from experience that life is never fair." Harry nodded sullenly and Snape winced when he realized that the usual edge was taken off of his normally sharp and criticizing voice, and he only hoped that Harry wouldn't notice that he did actually have a soft spot.  
  
Harry looked up at the clock a few minutes later and realized that it was near time to go. "Goodbye, Professor Snape. I'll see you next Wednesday."  
  
Severus waited until Harry was out of the room, then rested his head in his hands. "What have I become?" he asked himself, not really expecting an answer, though he knew it already. He had become someone who understood and empathized with Harry Potter, the son of his most-hated rival and one of his least favorite people in the world.  
  
Despite his deep-rooted feelings of dislike for the boy, Severus couldn't help but think about Harry's plight. He would never be able to go anywhere without someone recognizing him and shaking his hand. Women would flock to him--not because he was handsome (which, Severus had to admit, he was)--but because he was rich and he was famous and he was the Savior of the Wizarding world. People would always be using him and it would be hard to discern who his real friends were.  
  
But that didn't excuse his own self-pitying, Snape decided. He would just have to deal with his plight--everyone had something they wanted to change in their lives, and his was no different. Just because he was famous did not mean he had the right to sulk.  
  
Severus did not want to dwell in the thought that he might actually pity and understand, and even excuse Harry's feelings. He didn't want to think that his indifferent attitude was because he really did want to help Harry. He shoved his empathetic thoughts out of his mind, but only because he didn't want to dwell on the fact that Dumbledore was right--his feelings towards Harry were changing.  
  
Little did he know how much they were changing.

* * *

Severus was looking into a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were dark emeralds, sparkling with untold mysteries and a secret only they knew. He reached out to caress the face of those eyes, touch that soft skin. He hadn't touched someone like that since...well, he couldn't remember how long it had been. Too long. Not since he had loved...but he didn't want to dwell on that person right now. That person had hurt him too much to deserve any more loving thoughts. But the eyes...no, the face...they were so similar.  
  
This person, however, was perfect, not marred by arrogance like the other had been. Severus's finger traveled down the cheek and brushed across the full lips, his touch feather-light. He couldn't contain himself anymore--he leaned down and swept those beautiful lips into a smothering kiss, wanting-- needing--to taste that perfect mouth. He ran his tongue across the lower lip, seeking entrance, which he was granted. He slipped his tongue inside and explored the warm, wet depths of Harry's mouth.  
  
Wait--Harry's mouth?! There was something extremely wrong with this picture. His brain was screaming at him to stop, telling him that this wasn't supposed to happen, but he told it to go fuck itself. Severus couldn't remember why it should be wrong that he would kiss Harry...who was this Harry, anyways? He had beautiful eyes, even if everything else was like the other's, Severus mused, as he lost himself inside them. Between the eyes and the kissing, he was in blissful heaven.  
  
He wanted this so badly, he knew he couldn't just pull away. It had been so very long since he had touched or kissed or held someone. No matter how loudly his brain screamed he kept kissing--this was so perfect and he wasn't going to stop now. His hands wrapped in this 'Harry's' hair and pulled him closer and they moved slowly to the bed. 'Harry' wrapped his strong arms around Snape and--  
  
And Severus woke up. He sat straight up in his bed, his eyes wide with shock. When had this begun happening? Why would he ever want to kiss Harry Potter? That was an extremely disturbing thought, he decided, for more reasons than one. He took that moment to discover that he was covered with his own semen.  
  
With a shaking hand, he used a spell to clean himself off. It had been years since he had had a wet dream--not since his sixth year, when he had been in...well, those were thoughts for another time. He wasn't going to dwell on the past. Instead, he got up, musing over what intrigued him so much about Harry. Even if the two were so similar...that shouldn't matter, should it? Their personalities were so different. He sat in his favorite chair sullenly. The dream came back to him unbidden, and he could feel himself becoming hard just thinking about it.  
  
Slowly, with time, the details of the dream were forgotten, though Severus still remembered the general idea. His hands shaking from a mixture of shock and disgust and general fear for his well-being, Severus got up to get a dreamless sleep potion so he could go back to bed. Even with the soporific potion, however, he found that getting to sleep was still very difficult. All he could think of was the past...that one person...and how similar and yet different he was to Harry.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't you love cliff hangers? ducks flying sharp objects Okay, so it's not really the best cliffhanger. Don't you love them still? ducks more flying objects Well, I do! Because only I, the almighty goddess of this story knows what happens next.  
Johnny: Correction, so do I. Actually, if you want to know, you can email me at joh-- muffled noises  
Me: No, you'll just have to find out what happens in the next chapter. Bwahaha! Many kudos and a cute little Johnny poster to those who guess who Snape's previous lover was. I feel that I might have made it too obvious...but I'll see when you tell me who it is.  
Johnny: I didn't agree to this!  
Me: You didn't have to. I own you. See?  
Johnny: Damn. She has the contract out again.  
Me: pats Johnny on head Don't be depressed. I won't give you away, just your posters. Goodbye my sweets! Have fun guessing!   
(**PS**--the Johnny picture may seem a bit familiar to one of my readers...well, that's because I virtually stole the idea from her. (sticks out tongue) So sue me. Actually-don't. I'm broke. But I give my kudos to her.)


	4. Battles

**Rating**: This chapter is PG because nothing really happens in it. Snape's just broody and angsty and all.   
**Disclaimer**: Johnny: If she owned it, do you really think she'd be wasting her time with this piece of crap fanfic?  
Me: Hey! I don't think this story is crap! I think it's going quite well, thank you very much!  
Johnny: It's crap. Deal with it. You should be writing on that original stuff you have, not this shit. At least you have the potential to make money off that stuff!  
Me: ...okay, I see your point. I still like this story. Think of it as a way to...cure writer's block.  
Johnny: Writer's block? Cut the shit. You know plenty well that I have a lot of ideas for all THREE of your stories, yet you still waste your time here. To the readers If you haven't noticed, she doesn't own the story. Just the plot line...actually, that's my plot line, thank you very much.   
**Author's Note**: My shameless plug: the stories mentioned above would be my originals, two of which are posted on fictionpress.net. Thanks to my reviewers, and to those who review once this chapter is over, all will get a Hogwarts-person poster of their choice. Personally, I must tell you that the Sirius poster is the sexiest, but you may disagree. Sadly enough, I cannot mention everyone, but know that they are out there. **murdered by god:** Well, I just may have to write that book just for you. Hmmm... **Adriane:** Well, fuck you, too (pardon my french, everyone else). If you don't want to read slash, look at the **WARNING** next time that was included in the summary--don't rag on me if you didn't think to look there before reading (everyone should throw sticks at her and laugh when she cries)

* * *

He would have to get over this. Or cancel the talk sessions. Or talk to Harry. Or maybe all three...ah, who was he kidding? He wanted to fuck Harry Potter--the Boy Who Lived, his most-hated student--senseless. And it terrified him! He didn't know what he was going to do...his hands were shaking badly...he needed a drink, preferably with strong amounts of alcohol included.  
  
After getting out the bottle of firewhisky and adding some of that muggle drink called "Vodka" to it, he sat down in front of his fireplace to contemplate what just happened.  
  
Well, it was pretty obvious, he thought. He had just had an erotic dream of Harry Potter, his least favorite student. Severus figured that if he kept repeating "least favorite student" in his head, he might actually start believing it...it wasn't working all that well, from what he could tell.  
  
Since convincing himself that he still hated Harry wasn't working, he started convincing himself that it was just Harry's body. After all, the dream hadn't been about loving Harry because of his personality, but loving Harry for his body. That was it--all he felt was physical attraction, pure lust.  
  
But the Severus remembered how sad and hopeless Harry had looked. How much it seemed that he wanted to be comforted. And that would be where he went Damn! And so he started the process over again...and again and again.  
  
By about the tenth time of trying to convince himself that he was only interested in the body, he admitted he was intrigued with Harry's personality. But that really did not help matters. 'Yes, Potter, I decided I really did want to get to know you. No, you do not need to call St. Mungo's.'  
  
Since he couldn't find out what the best course of action was, he thought about the whys of things. So what was it that intrigued him about Harry? He wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was his mysteriously hurt background. He had heard rumors that Harry had lived with very uncaring Muggles, but he hadn't taken much interest in the idea. Maybe it was his lack of interest at being famous. Did he really not enjoy the attention? Severus had thought that Potter loved being showered with compliments. But Harry obviously didn't...and that confused Severus.  
  
Then it hit him. He was almost twenty years older that Harry. That was not a good sign. Wow, Severus thought. This was getting complicated.  
  
Severus battled with his feelings for the rest of the night, which didn't seem that long at all. It would not do for him to develop a--for lack of a better word--crush on his student--the student he infamously despised with a passion. He would have to keep up the act if he was to survive. He would wait out his abnormal feelings and banish them at the earliest convenience. That shouldn't be too hard, should it?

* * *

Come morning, Severus was still a bit disturbed with himself, though he pulled up the 'evil-mean-bastard-teacher' attitude the moment he stepped out the door. He wasn't a spy on the Dark Lord for nothing--he could lie in any situation that was brought up.  
  
Luckily for him, he didn't have Gryffindors until last class that day, so he would have plenty of time to gather his wits about him and come to terms with seeing Harry. Harry. _When did I start calling him Harry?_ That will have to stop immediately. And so it did. Severus called him 'Potter' for the rest of the day in his mind, even if it did take a little effort for the first couple of hours.  
  
And all that effort went unappreciated as Harry Potter walked through the door that day. The moment Severus laid eyes on the boy, even though he had mentally prepared for this moment, every thing came rushing back to him. Every detail of the dream, all his doubts and fears...everything. He immediately scowled and looked away. He was in a bad mood, and the entire class seemed to sense it.  
  
"Take your seats," he hissed, even though everyone was already sitting. "I will have no--I repeat no--rough housing or extraneous talking during this class." Severus searched his shelves for a headache-curing potion, and finding he was all out, decided a change in lesson plan was in order. "Pop quiz. All of you will make a potion to cure my headache. Begin." Severus waved his wand and all the materials appeared on the tables.  
  
For the entire class he sat and brooded over his feelings. It was like a battle going on inside his head, and he was slowly but surly losing. It didn't look good for his side--not good at all. He pointedly avoided looking at Potter all day, and even skipped checking over the cauldron, though he could tell just by a glance that Potter had added too much of the powdered griffin claws.  
  
Harry noticed that Snape was avoiding him as well, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Last night had been one of their more civil conversations. Matter-of-fact, it had been the most civil conversation they'd had their entire life. And Harry wanted to know what he had said to bother Snape so much. But alas, that would have to wait until the next meeting. He wasn't about to become all goody-too-shoes and visit the dungeons that just because he wanted to know what was bothering Snape.  
  
Harry didn't stop to wonder why it bothered him that Snape was upset at all. He didn't stop to wonder when he even attained the ability to read Snape's body language well enough to begin to understand what Snape was feeling, even if it was in the smallest of ways. All he really worried about was why his potion was a green when it was supposed to be blue.

* * *

The week went horribly for Severus, and not much better for Harry. Severus battled with his emotions all week, and had little sleep because of it. Every time he began to dream, he was haunted by visions of Harry. Even his dreamless sleep potions helped very little. He couldn't come to terms with his feelings for Harry--he just couldn't accept that he was attracted to the boy in any way. He hadn't had a crush since his seventh year, and look at how that had turned out. He had been emotionally scarred for life--that, combined with what he did with Voldemort, was not the healthiest background. No wonder he was such a big asshole. Severus wasn't ready to have another relationship with anyone--especially not with Harry Potter. Not that Harry would have him in the first place, of course. But that was beside the point. Severus didn't want to be hurt again.  
  
For Harry, it was a different matter. Snape's mood seemed to get worse throughout the week, no thanks to the headache potions they had made. Harry couldn't help but feel that it was his fault--the reason Snape was in such a bad mood was because of him. But for the life of him, he could not figure out why. He tried to remember his conversation with Snape, remember every gesture he made and word he said. But it was a hopeless task, and he didn't get any more information by brewing over the interaction they had for hours on end. Ron and Hermione were starting to wonder why he was being so thoughtful. Harry couldn't help but wish they would stop worrying about him and start realizing their feelings for each other--at least that way they'd have something else to think about.  
  
Harry found he was dreading going down to talk to Snape, though he desperately wanted to discover what he had done wrong. He paused outside the door, then knocked lightly, almost hoping that Snape wouldn't answer. Much to his disappointment, the door swung open to reveal Snape sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples with two forefingers and muttering something under his breath.  
  
This was not going to be good, Harry thought. Not good at all. He sat down without a word across from Snape and waited impatiently for Snape to begin. When Snape didn't say a word, he decided to take matters into his own hands. "May I ask what's bothering you, Professor?" asked Harry as politely as he could.  
  
"You may, but you might not get an answer." Snape paused, then scowled. He was acting like a child with these inferior retorts. "My head is just bothering me more than usual."  
  
Harry couldn't contain himself. "Is it because of something I said last time?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
  
Harry could have imagined it, but he thought he saw Snape flinch. "No, Potter. What could you have said that would affect me so?" Now, what you did, on the other hand, is a completely different matter.  
  
Harry sat in silence for a moment. "Is there anything I can do to help, sir?" He couldn't believe it. He was offering Professor Snape, of all people, help. It was just...Snape looked so in need of it at that moment.  
  
With his headache affecting his composure so much, Snape couldn't hide his surprise in time. "Wha--? No, never mind. How was your day?"  
  
Not what did you do, but _how_ was your day. Today really was strange, Harry mused. Fist, Snape was surprised. And second, he was asking how Harry's day was. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if the world was coming to an end.  
  
"It was fine, thanks for asking. Long. Yours?"  
  
"Horrid. Long." Harry couldn't believe it. Snape never related any personal information about anything, no matter how inconsequential it was. The fact that he had just let slip how his day had been was something to take note of.  
  
Harry decided to milk it for all it was worth. "Care to explain?"  
  
Snape looked up at Harry, his eyes revealing how tired he was. They were lifeless, and Harry nearly flinched at how old and worn out Snape looked just then. He was surprised when Snape acquiesced and vaguely explained why his day was bad. Had it been any other day, Snape would have made some scathing remark about how ignorant and stupid Gryffindors were for caring about people who didn't care about them. Today, however, was today, not any other day, and Snape wasn't in the mood to come up with one of those scathing remarks. "The other night I discovered something that I have always believed to be true is actually completely and utterly false. No...not false. Just the antithesis of what it once was. I've had a headache from trying to sort things out. And those potions your class made were highly ineffective--I would think that as sixth year students, you would be able to make a simple headache potion."  
  
Harry was stunned--excluding the scathing remark about the potions, Snape had just unburdened himself on Harry...if it had been any other day and under any other circumstances, Harry would have pointed a wand to the center of Snape's head and demanded to know where the imposter was hiding his potions teacher. But as was said, he thought the world was going to end- -and strange things were bound to happen when humanity dies.  
  
Harry nodded mutely and stood up. "I think it would be best if I go so that you can cure your headache...good luck, Professor." Harry wasn't even aware of what he was saying, and if asked at some point in time later, he wouldn't have been able to even recall speaking. Snape, however, would always remember what Harry had said. They really were two different people.

* * *

**A/N:** Congratulations to the following winners of plushies: **Lady Jules, VIxen, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, Amanda Saitou and Janet.** To **Minathia:** your first guess was right, and though that would be a great twist to the plot, I have it all planned out. Too bad, really--that's a great idea! **Aria-fic:** Well...you're close--it's one of the two. Hint: the eyes are Harry's; it's every thing _else_ that's like his previous lover. **The contest to win Johnny posters is still open!** And will be for quite a few chapters, actually. 


	5. Talks

Hello, dearies! And how are you today? (dodges flying objects) Okay, so you wanted me to post this sooner. I'm sorry! Forgive me, oh wonderful reviewers! Please?  
Johnny: Ignore her. She's demented.  
**Rating**: PG-13 for the insinuations there are.  
**Disclaimer**: After much arguing, Johnny has convinced me that if I owned it, I wouldn't be wasting my time with a 'piece of shit' fanfiction. Or at least, that's what he calls it. I think he thinks that because he wants to be the one to screw Snape ruthlessly...though he'd never admit it. That, or he really does just want to write on the other stories...personally, I think the first one is far more interesting.  
**Author's Note**: Thank you to my reviewers! I loveth you! A lot! **Pure Black, Miyahara Yuuki, Kerstyn **(Johnny is overjoyed at being recognized and says you deserve many kudos. He baked you cyber-cookies. I think he likes you...)**, Amanda Saitou, minathia** (thinking of a new contest...give me a chapter)**, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, **and **Crystalstorm21. **I especially love those of you who review again and again!

* * *

Harry mused over what had happened all the way back to his dorm, and once there, he drew the curtains around his bed so he could think in peace. Little did he know that Ron did not know the meaning of peace.  
  
Ron drew back his curtains mere moments after Harry had closed them. "What's up, mate? How'd torture go?" Ron reclined on the bed and Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Thinking. Snape-session was fine. Go away. Please." Harry figured it was a bit rude, but it got his point across.  
  
"Harry?" asked Ron, the question he wasn't asking obvious in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, and no, I'm not mad at you. I was just thinking about something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Snape just brought something to my attention, that's all."  
  
Ron grimaced. "What could Snape bring to your attention that could be interesting in the slightest bit?"  
  
"It's just..." Harry began, searching for the words. He didn't want to lie to Ron, but evading the truth would help evade uncomfortable and unnecessary questions. "I realized that not everything's what it appears to be in this world. Things are...different when you look at them closer."  
  
Ron nodded, though Harry could tell his friend really had no idea what he was going on about. Harry decided a change in subject was desperately needed. "So have you talked to Hermione lately?" he asked, his voice dripping with insinuations that even Ron could pick up on.  
  
Ron blushed and looked away. "Uh, yeah...actually...this evening. While you were with Snape."  
  
"And?" prompted Harry, glee filling his voice.  
  
"Nothing happened, Harry," said an exasperated Ron.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Right. And I'll believe that when pigs fly." Ron gave Harry a quizzical look. "Never mind," he said with a dismissive gesture. "What happened?"  
  
"Well, we just talked. It was nice, you know," he said, his eyes getting dreamy. "She's so smart, but she can still have a real conversation with you, without making you feel...you know, stupid. Well, most of the time at least."  
  
"Whatever you say, Ron. Whatever you say." Harry was just glad the subject was off him. "I'm going to take a quick shower and get in bed. I advise you to think of the best ways to get Hermione on a date."  
  
Harry took the time in the shower to think on what exactly was bothering him, and why on earth he was worried about Snape. He figured he was worried because of the emotions Snape was showing. Harry never believed that what he said or did would ever affect Snape in any way whatsoever...  
  
Harry took the entire shower to examine everything Snape had done and he had done in return, but he came up with no conclusive answers. Snape was just...different. There was something about him that he had shown, if only for a moment, that was not like Snape at all...it was human and feeling and caring and...and Harry couldn't place it. Either he had always been this way, and just hiding it, or he had suddenly changed for some unexplained reason...Seeing as Harry didn't think that Snape had changed dramatically just because of a few talks with the "Boy Who Lived," he figured it was the first option. It couldn't be said any other way--there was something hidden about Snape, that few, if any, knew about. Hell, if Harry took the time, he could probably find out lots of things about Snape that no one knew. Harry couldn't quell his strong desire to figure those things out. He couldn't stop wanting to know why Snape had let his walls down, if only for a moment.  
  
That haunted, tired look that Snape had given Harry only spurred this desire on. If anything, he could find out why Snape was such a prickly bastard--unless, of course, he just had an abnormal apathy towards all humanity in general, excluding his beloved Slytherins, of course.  
  
Harry didn't think that his burning desire to find out more about Snape might possibly be because of some other burning desire deep inside of him to discover other things about Snape...though his subconscious knew this. That night, Harry dreamed. Unlike his usual erotic dreams, though, this one involved a notorious potions professor of his.  
  
Harry woke up screaming, and Ron was quickly by his side. "What's wrong, Harry? Harry! HARRY!"  
  
Harry was jerked out of his stupor to find that Ron was very close to his face. He muttered some curse word yet to be defined and jumped back, putting a good foot or so between their bodies--though that was as far as Ron would let him get.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong? You were screaming."  
  
Harry willed the blush that was creeping onto his face to go away and hoped it was too dark to see anything. Neville, Sean and Dean were gathered around his bed with Ron, looks of worry on their faces. "I...I just had a nightmare. About Snape. Sorry to wake you," he mumbled. After noticing that everyone was still confused, he repeated himself, a bit louder and a bit more clearly.  
  
"What could be that bad?" asked Dean, his eyes wide. "I was sure you were dying or something."  
  
Harry bit back a sarcastic remark that he had come close to death many times before and he had yet to scream like a baby, but instead responded, "It was about Snape." Neville's eyes became sympathetic and he nodded his agreement, as if he had been in the same situation before--and Harry wouldn't be surprised if he had nightmares about Snape on a weekly basis.  
  
The only thing was...it hadn't really been a nightmare. Harry hadn't been screaming out of fear, but rather pleasure. He wasn't about to tell the others that, though. Once he had woken up and had time to think about it, he shuddered with disgust and promptly decided that the dream was a result of a very stressful week, nothing more.  
  
Little did he know that Snape was attempting to convince himself of the very same thing.

* * *

A/N: You know, I considered leaving it there, but then I figured that the chapter was far too short and you all would have my heads on a platter for desert, so I decided to go on. So don't ever say I don't do things for you.

* * *

Severus was distraught. It had been another sleepless week, and the little shut eye he had managed to obtain had been filled with not-so-innocent dreams of Harry. He had yet to discover what exactly intrigued him so much about the young boy, but no matter what he did, the dreams refused to stop. Though Severus had to admit--those dreams were damn good. He wasn't sure he wouldn't miss the dreams once they stopped...and they would stop.  
  
And here he was, bags evident under his eyes despite the charm he had used, waiting for Harry to show up so they could have another heart-to-heart on why his life was going down the drain.  
  
The knock on the door this time was clear and strong, and Snape waved the door open from where he was sitting with his wand. Harry walked confidently to the seat he used every week and smiled broadly at Severus, who sneered. "I take it you had a good day?" he asked vehemently.  
  
"No, I was just looking forward to coming here to talk to you," said Harry pleasantly.  
  
Severus wanted to believe that, but it was more than likely a ploy to annoy him even more. "Wonderful," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  
  
Harry faltered, then went on. "No, it's true. I figured I'd make the best of it. Anyways, enough talk about me, more about you. I realized the other night that I know nothing of your background, yet you know far more about mine. Begin."  
  
Severus considered protesting, but then realized that if he didn't acquiesce, then he would be sitting here all night with an overly-cheery Harry Potter. He figured the best way to shut up the brat was to give a little background information, and if Potter demanded any more, he would throw the boy out on his smart little ass.  
  
"I grew up with my mother and father on a little estate in Ireland. Then I came to Hogwarts. I took a break for a few years, then came to teach here at Hogwarts due to some...unfortunate events."  
  
Harry was surprised that Snape and conceded the point--he had expected to need to badger it out of him for quite a while--but he hid his surprise well. He guessed that was the Slytherin side of him, though he wouldn't ever admit it. Harry decided that questioning about the "unfortunate events" would not be the smartest thing in the world to do, so he let that pass by.  
  
However, he could no longer quell his curiosity. "How was your...relationship with my father?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. He already knew from Snape's memories that it was not the best in the world--actually, it was probably the worst--but he wanted to hear what Snape had to say on the matter.  
  
Severus was quiet for a long time, but Harry didn't say anything in fear of making him clam up entirely. When Severus finally did speak, his sentences were choppy and with long pauses in-between, as if he were remembering something painful. Harry couldn't help but think that something to do with his father had affected Snape more than the potions professor cared to admit. "Your father was...cruel to me. He always was. He only showed compassion to me twice--once so that his friend was not convicted of murder. And once in a moment of foolish weakness. I could never forgive him for how he treated me."  
  
"I thought as much," Harry said quietly. There was no use in upsetting Snape more, and he was afraid that if he asked any more questions, Snape would completely shut himself off from Harry, and he was just getting somewhere. "I think it's time for me to go," said Harry, not really caring to look at the clock. He probably had a lot of time left, but if he didn't look at the clock, he wouldn't know that, and then he couldn't be blamed for leaving early. If he had looked at the clock, he would have realized that he had gone over the allotted time to talk with Severus by more than fifteen minutes.  
  
Severus just laid his head down on the desk and closed his eyes, wishing he could fall asleep but unwilling to do so for fear of the dreams that would inevitably come. How had he gotten himself into this? What did he do to deserve this kind of torture? First thing in the morning, he would go talk to the Headmaster. He could not keep this up much longer. He never actually went.  
  
In his office, Dumbledore just smiled, a sad twinkle in his eyes. "Severus, I felt bad when you were hurt, and I can only hope that you will not be hurt again. With any luck, this will help to heal your grievous wounds. I'm afraid I've meddled in affairs far too much, though. It is up to you, Harry, my boy. Your professor needs your help."

* * *

Johnny: (waves flag resignedly) Wooo. Guess who Snape's past lover was and get your poster of me. Wooo.  
Me: Come now, use a little more enthusiasm, Johnny.  
Johnny: If you want someone to be so damned enthusiastic while selling posters in resemblance to themselves, you do it.  
Me: I'm sorry, but we're not selling posters of me, otherwise I'd be holding the flag and people wouldn't be guessing. No one wants a poster of me, remember? (turns to audience) Anyways, you know the drill. Get your Johnny poster. Those who review and get it wrong get some Hogwarts character poster of your choice, and those who just review because they love me get homemade cookies. Made by my mom, not me--I can't cook worth a flip. Congrats to those who have already won! **Miyahara Yuuki,** plus all the ppl I've mentioned before.  
** A/N**: I'm not that satisfied with the beginning of chapter, mostly because it went completely different from how I wanted it to go, but I'll spare you the bloody details. I just wanted it to be more along the lines of Harry's ruminations over Snape, and I hadn't planned on Ron OR the dream...they just happened. Damned characters have a mind of their own. I blame it all on Johnny, whom I believe to be conspiring with the characters to screw up the story. Let me know if it makes sense or you think I should force my muse to help me put the chapter back the way it was supposed to go. Johnny's eyes widen in fear and he steps off to the side Come back here. We still have to fix this problem! I have no idea where I'm going from here! Dammit, Johnny, why'd you have to complicate things?  
(**PS**--As a beloved author of mine once said, you can't have Plot without Complication...that is SO not fair. Kudos to her if she's reading my stuff, which I somehow doubt. And sorry for the excessively long author's note.)


	6. Parting Company

Yay! There is much rejoicing! This is chapter six, and there's much more to come! Which will make this one of the longest fanfics I've ever written (I see no real point in dragging a fanfic out past its potential--once all requirements are met for the conflict to be satisfactorally resolved, it is useless to talk about what happened afterwards).   
**BTW,** I'm leaving...for two weeks (give or take a couple days). I'll be back on the 13th and hopefully updating a chapter immediately. Please leave me lots of pretty reviews for when I come back from vacation! Please!   
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Disclaimer: **Johnny: If you haven't learned your lesson yet, you're an idiot. She doesn't own it. Get over it. If you want to read something she does own, go to fictionpress.net and read her stories there. We'd much appreciate that.  
Me: Ignore the selfless plug if you're not interested. However, I do promise that my original works tend to be much better than my fanfics. At least, that's my opinion.  
**Please excuse all typos, as I did not have a chance to look over it if you wanted this chapter BEFORE my vacation. I'll fix all of them at some later date.**  
  
Thanks to my reviewers!: **Petal, Pure Black **(Uh...Ireland's close to England? I dunno...that's just how I pictured it.)**, Desdemon321, xikum **(exacly what I was going for!)**, Kerstyn **(Johnny says he's gonna miss you!)**, Mikee **(I think you're the first person to ever thank me for a story--I feel so special!)**, Miyahara Yuuki, Crystalstorm21, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, Minathia. **You guys make me smile!  
  
Harry walked out of Snape's classroom in a very contemplative mood. Something his father had done really hurt Severus, though he wasn't sure what. You know the saying "some mysteries are best left unsolved"? Harry decided this was not one of those mysteries. He would get to the bottom of this if it killed him in the process...and seeing as it dealt with Snape, it very well might.  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel that it wasn't fair that Snape took all of his anger out on Harry, though. Harry wasn't his father--he shouldn't have to atone for whatever mistakes James Potter had made in the past. Harry hadn't even met his father--didn't even know what he was like--yet Snape was still angry at him for no real reason.  
  
Once he got on this train of thought, Harry could not seem to leave it, and by the time he reached the dorm rooms, he was in a sour mood. He stormed up to his room, ignoring Ron, Hermione and every one else, and sat on his bed. After closing the curtains around him, he clutched his pillow to his chest and stared angrily off into the distance.  
  
It didn't take long for Harry to fall asleep, and before he knew it, he was being awoken by a distraught Ron. "Harry," Ron choked. "Wake up. Dumbledore needs to see us." Harry could tell immediately that something was wrong.  
  
"What's the matter, Ron? What happened?"  
  
Ron closed his eyes a moment to gather his wits, and when he opened them again, Harry could see that Ron had been crying for quite a while. "The Headmaster wants to talk to us."  
  
Harry followed Ron to the Headmaster's office, trying to comfort Ron the entire way, while still trying to get answers out of him. However, every time Harry would get close to an answer, Ron would break down, and Harry couldn't get any more out of him. Ron's body just seemd to refuse talking about it at all.  
  
Hermione was waiting on them when they arrived outside the gargoyle. Her eyes were swollen with tears, as well. "Hermione, tell me what happened," demanded Harry, a little more harshly than he had meant to.  
  
Hermione gathered her wits before answering, her voice strained the entire time. "It's Percy," she forced out after a minute. "He's..." Hermione couldn't finish her sentence before the tears started streaming down her face again, but she didn't need to. Harry had guessed what happened. The reality of what had happened had yet to set in when the gargoyle swung open and allowed them to enter.  
  
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his hands clasped together and the sparkle that was usually in his eyes missing. He motioned for the three to sit down, along with the rest of the Weasley family. There wasn't a dry eye in the room--even Harry had begun to cry, though not as hard as the others.  
  
"From the looks on you faces, I am sure that you have all heard about yesterday's unfortunate events concerning Percy." Mrs. Weasley, who had managed to come to a somewhat composed state (if it could be called that), broke down again, sobs wracking his body. Even though Harry didn't know exactly what had happened, he decided to let that slide, for the Weasleys' sakes. They probably didn't want to hear it again. Anyways, Harry wasn't sure he even wanted to hear it. "Unfortunately, we have lost someone dear to our hearts," Dumbledore hesitated before continuing, "because of something we could not prevent." Harry was sure that Dumbldore had been about to say something different, and he made a mental note to ask about it in a moment.  
  
"I have decided that the rest of the Weasley family, minus Ron, shall stay at a safehouse until it is deemed safe enough for them to return be seen in public again. Ron shall stay here to continue his studies, as I am sure he will be safe here." Harry had yet to figure out why this concerned him, though he was grateful for knowing. "I assume that you will wish to stay the night," Dumbledore said to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "so that you may grieve with your entire family. However, I must insist that you leave in the morning so as not to complicate things." Dumbledore smiled sadly at the people in the room. "I adivse going out to the lake to talk, as it is very nice out there."  
  
Everyone took this as the signal to leave, but Harry stayed behind, motioning to Ron and Hermione that he would catch up. Dumbledore looked at him tiredly, as if he knew what was about to come.  
  
"Headmaster?" Harry began. "May I ask what happened?" He still wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he figured it was best to be informed.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I guess it is better for you to find out now than later, though I hate doing this." He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. "Harry, the Dark Lord left a message with our dear Percy's body. He said that it was only the beginning..." Harry looked at Dumbldore, confused. "That the people close to Harry Potter would keep dying..." Harry's eyes widened, realizing what was going to be said, "until you were brought to him or surendured."  
  
Harry's brain took a minute to remember how to speak, and his voice was cracked when it finally did come. "He's threatening me?" Dumbledore nodded. "With the people I love?" Another slight inclination of the head. And now Harry was mad. "So he's going to keep hurting the people close to me until I come out or he wins, is that it?" Harry ranted on for a few more moments, and Dumbledore let him. He knew that Harry's anger was a result of his mind's refusal to accept what had happened. Harry was in shock and if he actually thought about the connotation of what had happened, Dumbledore was sure that he wouldn't be able to take it--his mind and body would shut down from lack of will to live.

* * *

Harry was in Transfiguration the next day, waiting for McGonnagal to arrive and give them something to do. He was still angry, though he was a bit more griefstriken than he had been, and he was short with everyone he talked to. Pretty soon, everyone figured it was best to just leave him alone, and after a little while, and Ron and Hermione weren't exactly able to give comfort themselves.  
  
Harry really didn't think he could be blamed for exploding at Malfoy. To him, Malfoy had asked for it--doesn't he always? So when he punched Malfoy in the face and broke that 'perfect little nose,' he really didn't regret it. He also didn't really regret it when he was sent to Dumbledore's office, or at any point after that.  
  
"Harry, my boy. What happened?"  
  
Harry stared stonily at Dumbledore. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, seeing no point in angering Harry further. Between what had happened with Percy and Snape, he figured it was best to let things slide for now. "Well, twenty points will be deducted from Gryffindor, but I will overlook giving you detentions. No matter the events, you cannot be allowed to hit a student. I am afraid you'll have to learn to control your temper better, Mr. Potter. Have a nice day."  
  
Harry walked angrily out of Dumbledore's office and skipped the last fifteen minutes of Transfiguration to go up to his room. There, he cried over the unfairness of it all. Malfoy, Dumbledore, his friends, Snape...Percy...They all expected him to save them...he was supposed to help, he was supposed to defeat Voldemort. They looked to him for help...and when the need had risen, he hadn't even known until it was too late. He didn't want to be the 'Boy Who Lived'any more. He didn't want to be the precious savior that would have to kill the evilest wizard of the century. He didn't want to be...Harry Potter.

* * *

By Wednesday, even Ron and Hermione didn't dare speak to him. Harry seriously considered not evening coming out of his room that evening to talk to Snape--but he had promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't skip the meetings, and no matter how angry he was with his headmaster, he wasn't going to break a promise. Damn his Gryffindor loyalty.  
  
Harry went down to the dungeons and knocked impatiently on the door, which swung open immediately.  
  
"Mr. Potter. I take it you're not in a good mood." Harry just stared at Snape. "Well, talk."  
  
"Why should I?" retorted Harry. "It's not like you care."  
  
"That's what you're here for, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry sarcastically. "Because good, loving, wonderful Dumbledore wants the Boy Who Lived to be friends with everyone."  
  
Severus was surprised. For one...Harry never talked badly about Dumbledore. And for two...well, it couldn't be said any other way--Harry never talked badly about Dumbledore. Severus just couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Harry--angry with the Headmaster? What had he done? And for that matter...who had pissed Harry off so much? Severus would be damned if he had ever seen Harry this mad at anyone.  
  
"What happened?" he asked, figuring that if nothing else, he could avoid Harry's wrath by being...more nice than before. Not that he had to be nice in any way, but hey--he could make the effort. Snape remembered that one of the Weasleys killed, and he made the connection that Harry was probably close to the entire Weasley family. Harry was probably miserably, and it was the least he could do to be nice...that, and he didn't want Harry to pull out his wand and curse him where he stood. His wand was still in his office, much to his regret.  
  
"Draco...he said something really mean." There was obviously more to this.  
  
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Mr. Potter, but Draco's said a lot of mean things before, especially to you. This is surely not the first time."  
  
"He talked about my family...the Weasleys...he said that if I was the savior of the world, why hadn't I defeated Voldemort yet, even though I've had plenty of chances."  
  
"Again, this is not new news."  
  
"He said that he thought I must have done it for the attention...that if I wasn't doing it for the attention...why hadn't I saved anyone..." Harry's voice was getting softer and softer, and, horrors of horrors, Severus thought that Harry might be ready to cry. This was not looking good.  
  
"But you don't do it for the attention. You've said so yourself." Had his voice just been comforting? Gods, now he was giving a pep talk. Would wonders ever cease?  
  
"And he said that I endanger the lives of everyone around me, and that I should just leave until I was able to actually defeat the Dark Lord, not infuse everyone with false hope that I would save them and..." And now Harry was crying. At first it was only a tear, but then a second one followed, and a third, and soon the tears were streaming down his face unchecked. Harr had remained standing until now, at which point in time he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. He rested his head in his hands and he was shuddering with every sob.  
  
Severus couldn't help but let his heart go out to the boy. Obviously something Draco had said had hit home with Harry--and it probably hadn't been just because of what Draco had said. Severus would bet his life that it had to do with the death of that Weasley boy. From what it looked like, Harry hadn't allowed himself to think of it until now. Harry probably hadn't let the reality sink in, and talking to someone--anyone, even Snape-- had let all those emotions out into the open.  
  
Severus felt as if he was watching from another universe as he placed a hand over top one of Harry's. He didn't even register the action until he felt Harry clench Severus's hand in his own. Severus knew it wasn't the most comforting action, but it was the closest he had ever gotten to being a comforting person in years, and he felt that Harry knew this and was using the sympathy while he could get it.  
  
After many long minutes, Harry calmed down enough for him to talk his emotions out. "I was supposed to save Percy. People were expecting me to-- they're depending on me to do things like that. I've let them all down...the Weasleys, Hermione, the rest of the Wizarding world...even Dumbledore." Severus kept quiet, sensing Harry had more to say. When Harry finally did talk again, it was so quiet that Severus had to strain to hear the words. "Voldemort..." Severus restrained from flinching. "He said that the people around me would keep getting hurt until I faced him. He virtually threatened everyone I love."  
  
Harry's tears were back full force now, though the shudders that racked his body were a little less intense. Severus was afraid he might not be able to use his hand after this, as Harry's grip had cut off all circulation that once traveled in his fingers. He reached down with his other hand and patted Harry's head. Severus couldn't help but notice that Harry's hair was a lot softer than he'd imagined it would be...and the moment he realized he had noticed this, he decided to take measures to evict these thoughts from his head once and for all...but how would he do that? He'd have to think on that later. For now, he'd do the only thing he could do...the thing he didn't really want to do...comfort Potter. Seeing as, ironically, he was the only one who could  
  
"Harry Potter, I do not care what other people say, but to let their words get to you so much is to ask for someone to hurt you. Stop being a weak Gryffindor and stand up for yourself."  
  
Harry sniffed nodded. Harry knew that was about as close to comfort that Snape would actually willingly get, and that meant a lot to him. Either Snape was being unusally kind, or he was just so pitiful looking that Snape decided to take pity on him...but either way, he was willing to accept the help.  
  
"I know...it's just...hard," he said after a moment. "With the entire Wizarding world looking to you for help...and even though the Muggles don't know it, they depend on me as well...it's a little daunting." Severus would say so. He would have buckled under that pressure--he had enough trouble just being a spy for the good side--he wouldn't have coped well with saving the good side altogether. Though he wouldn't admit that. He settled for something slightly less personal.  
  
"I understand," he said, and both he and Harry were surprised at the words. "But even so, you can't let people like Malfoy get to you. And you can't let the death of one, no matter how close or far to you that one is, ruin your life. If you let that one person affect you so much, and I happen to believe that you weren't that close to Percy in the first place, then imagine the control Voldemort would have if he attacted, say, Ron or Hermione? You can't allow one person to have that much power over you. And I happen to know that Voldemort wouldn't shy away from using that power to his advantage. The only way to deal with it is to keep going and, though you can mourn, not let it control your decisions or your life."  
  
During this time, Harry had looked up into Severus's eyes, and it took all the will power Severus had to not lose his control and lean down to kiss Harry. It was so much like the dream that Severus couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he did. Would Harry let him kiss and kiss back like in the dream, or would he jerk away with disgust? Before he knew it, he realized he was bending down, leaning closer and closer to Harry...  
  
Severus broke eye contact and shook his head to clear it. He stood up quickly and sat back down in his seat. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Mr. Potter?" he asked after a moment of gathering his wits, his voice once again cool and indifferent.  
  
Harry shook his head and stood up. "No, Professor. I'm sorry to have troubled youw ith problems that do not concern you. Have a nice evening." Severus could tell that Harry wanted to talk more, and probably quesiton what had just happened, but even he knew it was in both of their best interests to part company. For once, Severus was grateful that Harry was more intelligent than he gave the boy credit for.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was a bit harder for me to write. I'm sparing you the details, don't worry, but let me know how you took it. I'm sorry if it's a bit depressing, but you got comfort!Snape, so be happy! Isn't that good? Please review! 

**A challenge**, just for Minathia: I need a joke--badly. Lots of jokes--really funny ones! I know it has nothing to do with the story, but please leave me a joke--any joke! If you're having problems finding jokes or can't remember any, go to coolquiz.com and find some. Please! The winner gets a cake with your name on it and many kudos! Of course, Johnny's cooking the cake. Don't worry, I won't inflict my bad cooking skills upon you.  
  
**Congratulations**, winners of our Johnny Cookies! I have to go, so I can't post who won, but know that I love you all! I'll post two chapters worth of winners next time. Good job, people! Thanks so much to my reviewers! I love you guys (and girls)! Have a nice day, and I'll try and post the next chapter soon.

Even if you're not leaving me a joke, **please review!**


	7. What's so amusing?

I'm BACK! Yay! Isn't this great? I think so. The islands (where I went on vacation) were great. I would tell you about them, but that would be boring and annoying. Visit one of my livejournals if you really want to waste your time hearing about them (links on my profile).

Me: Well...I'd tell you I own Harry Potter and make money off of it...but that would be lying.  
Johnny: nod So don't get any ideas to sue us. We're broke.

**Ah, my reviewers!** Thanks so much! Love you people! **Desdemona321, Amanda Saitou **(Johnny hugs back--he loves when people recognize him. So far, you and Kerstyn are his favorites)**, Avemtilla **(kudos are like points or a sign of respect/gratitude/etc...I mostly use them when someone says/does something that I like--don't worry, it's a good thing)**, Karuri, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, minathia** (longest review ever! Even if half of it were jokes...--grin-- Thanks for your jokes _and_ comments!)**, Crystalstorm21, Pure Black, Lady Phasma** (yes, you're right about Sev's past lover)**, Mikee, Little Elflet, Kerstyn **(No, Johnny and I just went on vacation. He missed you while we were gone. And thank you! Ego boost!)**, YikesSark, jentyl3 **(soon, I promise)**. I'm glad you're all enjoying the twist and turns! More to come...grin **

P.S.If your name is not listed here, it's because screwed up and 3 reviews were deleted (I'm wondering...has this happened to anyone else?). Let me know if it was you, just for my piece of mind. Please.

* * *

Harry practically ran back to his room. He felt as if he would explode from information overload--he couldn't even pin down one idea to think about. He greeted Ron and Hermione and ran straight up to his room, closed the curtains and started thinking. He'd been doing a lot of that lately...  
  
First, he thought about what Snape had said. He had a point--Harry wasn't going to get anywhere mourning over lost people; he couldn't bring them back (though taking his revenge was another matter entirely). He would do the best to protect those he loved, but other than that, there was no use dwelling on the past. No matter how painful that past was.  
  
Second, he thought about what Snape had done. Now this one was much more confusing. First, Snape had been kind. Not just "well I won't taunt you today" nice, but "I'm really sorry you're having to go through this" nice. It was as if he really cared, and that really confused Harry. Snape didn't care about anyone or anything--it just wasn't who he was. Sure, Harry figured he had probably cared about someone in his life--but that person was long gone by now. Now Snape was a cold, hard, leave-me-alone kind of person. Those kinds of people didn't give a damn if anyone else was feeling bad, let alone their least-favorite student. And Snape hadn't been just nice. He had been understanding, and he had given advice. He wanted Harry to get out his little pit of depression. The idea overwhelmed Harry.  
  
And then there was that moment...where Snape was holding one of his hands...and was so close...and Harry had been sure they were about to kiss. Snape had looked like he wanted to caress Harry's face and hold Harry in his arms, saying that everything would be alright. Snape had looked like he had wanted to do this for a long time...and that scared Harry. Was Snape infatuated with him...?  
  
Harry laughed at himself. Yeah, right. Snape was in love with him. No, that would never happen. The potions professor had probably never loved anyone in his entire life, let alone Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived.  
  
The thing was...that brought questions to Harry's mind that he wasn't sure he wanted to explore. Had that dream just been from stress? Or had his subconscious been trying to tell him something. Harry had felt safe when Snape had been holding his hand--he knew it was absurd, but it was true. He hadn't wanted that little bit of contact to stop. And when Snape had been that close...he wasn't sure that he would have pulled away if Snape had kissed him. Matter-of-fact, he wasn't sure he would have been disgusted or offended or any other thing that he should be, other than happy. Harry felt...well, he couldn't put a word to it. He guessed he felt disappointed that Snape hadn't kissed him...and that was more intimidating than anything Snape could have said or done.  
  
Harry shook his head. The worst part about this infatuation he seemed to have (if it could be called that) was that Harry knew Snape wouldn't ever feel the same way, so even if Harry did have an stupid crush on his potions professor, which was already ludicrous, Snape would never return his feelings. Harry would just have to get over it and move on with life. There was no use dwelling on the past, but there was less use dwelling on what could not and would not ever be.

* * *

As the week went by, Harry's obsession with Snape grew worse and worse. He would sit in class--any class, not just potions--and dream of Snape. At first he was disgusted with himself, and he would immediately think of something else. But then he decided it was inevitable, and if it was going to happen, he might as well enjoy it.  
  
By Monday he realized that he was going to have to spend an entire hour alone with Snape, and this both daunted and excited him. An hour with Snape? Anything could happen! And then...anything could happen. They could kiss! ...Or Snape could throw Harry unceremoniously out on his ass. The last was far more likely.  
  
By Wednesday evening, Harry had worked himself up about it all. He knocked nervously on the door, and almost hoped that it wouldn't allow him entry so he could go back to his dorm. Alas, it swung open like always, and Harry was left standing like a fool in Snape's doorway.  
  
"Mr. Potter, unless you have come to stand in my doorway like the idiot you are, I suggest you come inside and take a seat." Harry smiled nervously and sat down, his hands shaking. He clenched them together, the whites of his knuckles showing, and stared at the chalkboard until Snape spoke to him.  
  
"May I ask, Mr. Potter, what has you so worked up?"  
  
Harry spluttered. He had expected Snape to notice, but to just come out and ask it? Harry didn't have an answer. So instead, he stuttered for a few moments, and then managed a weak "Nothing," when Snape raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
Severus was finding this all quite amusing. Obviously, Harry had gotten past his self-pity stage and moved on, but what was this all about? "I doubt it is nothing, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry couldn't answer this, either. So instead, he took his only way out. "Don't call me that, please," he said quietly. He had thought he had sounded quite polite.  
  
"Call you what," Snape asked condescendingly, amused even more by this new show of daring. "Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry saw his door opening, and he took it. "That!" he said, his voice becoming louder. "Mr. Potter," he said in what he believed a damn good imitation of Snape, if a bit high and more nasal. "You're an idiot, Mr. Potter. You should know better, Mr. Potter." Harry accompanied these imitations with prissy hand movements and the rolling of his eyes. It was quite funny to him, though to Snape it was another matter.  
  
Severus was angry. First, what was so wrong about him calling Harry 'Mr. Potter'? And second, he did not sound or act like that! "I will have you know that I can call you whatever I please, Mr. Potter. There is nothing you can do to the contrary. I do not see why it would annoy you so, anyways. It is just a name."  
  
"That's just it!" Harry shouted, his infatuation with Snape forgotten in the heat of the moment. This had been bothering him for a while--he had virtually forgotten it, what with the events of the past two weeks--but he would settle it for once and for all. "It's not just a name. It may be my name, but it was my father's name as well, and to you, that name caused you pain. You say that Dumbledore wants us to 'amend our differences' or some bullshit like that, but that's not going to happen if every time you call me 'Mr. Potter' you think of my father!" Harry was screaming at Snape now, hovering a few inches in front of his face in hopes to get the point across.  
  
Severus stared, shocked at what Harry had said. True, the first few times he had called Harry 'Mr. Potter' he had always been reminded of the pain he went through at the hands of James Potter, but in his mind, he was over that. Obviously, in Harry's mind, hate still flared in Severus every time he said that name.  
  
"Fine," Severus conceded. "But then what do you propose I call you?"  
  
Harry pulled back, smiled, shook his head and almost laughed--though not quite. "Harry would make sense," he said, his voice back down to a normal level.  
  
"What do you find so amusing, Harry?" Severus asked, putting emphasis on the name in hopes of getting his point across.  
  
"You. Me. I never thought I'd be asking you to call me by my first name. Things have changed, you know?" he stated, obviously over his temper tantrum.  
  
"Yes," Severus said dryly. "They have." Severus felt his heart yearn to touch Harry, to hold him close, but he knew that was impossible. He couldn't help but notice, however, that Harry was relaxed--truly comfortable--in his presence. And hadn't he said that he would never be comfortable around Snape? Severus laughed at the irony of it all.  
  
"What do you find so amusing, Professor?" Harry ask, a smile playing on his lips. Severus's heart stopped when he realized that Harry was smiling with him--not with his friends or anyone else that he loved. They were sharing a joke, a civil conversation that wasn't involved with the problems that faced them both.  
  
"Absolutely nothing, Harry. Absolutely nothing."

* * *

Severus sat in his room that night in a very thoughtful mood. Maybe Dumbledore was right--maybe he could be friends with Harry Potter, if nothing else. After they had decided what Harry should be called, they had had a truly decent, very intriguing conversation. Sure, Severus had forced himself not to participate as much as he would have liked--it wouldn't do to become best buddies with his 'Master's' acrh nemesis--and besides, he was still wary about any relationship. He didn't want to get his heart torn apart again. But other than that, he had had fun.  
  
Severus thought about how this had turned out--at first, angry with Dumbledore because it had to be started at all, but now he was looking forward to their next meeting. Harry seemed to trust Severus a lot more than he had in the beginning--actually, he seemed to trust Severus more than anyone other than the Headmaster trusted him. It was intimidating, so he decided not to dwell on that revelation, but it was also comforting. To know that someone was actually enjoying having a conversation with him after so many years of scorn and distrust was extremely nice.  
  
Harry also seemed to like him more. Not that Harry would ever choose spending time with him over his friends, but Harry might choose to just spend time with him in the future just because he had nothing else to do and it was far more enjoyable than doing nothing at all. Severus had hope that something good could come of this, and he was feeling mightily accomplished with it all.  
  
But that didn't mean that their relationship would ever progress past friendship. First, they were supposed to be enemies, according to how the school still saw them. Though Severus could never go back to the scornful remarks he had said to Harry for the past few years, he would not be nice to the boy in public. Second, Harry was his student, and not only that, he was a child in comparison to Severus. It would look wrong if he and Harry were going out--Harry would look he could definitely do better (and he could), and Severus would look like a gold digger who was looking for the fame and a boy-toy. Not that he needed the money, anyways--he was rich from his inheritance, and he didn't need any spare money Harry might have. But that's what it would look like, none-the-less.  
  
And lastly...Severus knew that Harry would never have him. Sure, Harry didn't want Severus to call him 'Mr. Potter' any more, but that didn't mean Harry wanted him to start using choice nicknames or any such thing like that. No, Harry just wanted to be out from under his father's shadow, nothing more.

* * *

Harry went up to his room in a really good mood. He was whistling a little tune that had come to him on the way up from the dungeons, and there was a silly smile plastered all over his face. Even if Snape wasn't interested in him, they were taking a step in the right direction. Though Snape might never develop feelings for him, they would at least eviscerate any hard feelings between them once and for all. They would no longer be able to hate each other--they might even be able to become friends. It might take a while for him to gain Severus's trust, but that would come eventually. And who knew where they would go from there.  
  
And that was exactly what pleased Harry about all of this--or so he thought. He didn't consciously realize that he was comfortable around Snape now, or that he trusted Snape with his life, and he certainly didn't realize how much this meant to Snape. But deep down inside, on a subconscious level that Harry didn't even know he had, Harry was pleased that he could become friends with someone so cold and untrusting. Harry was happy deep down that he could bring such happiness to someone who probably hadn't smiled in twenty years.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again for reading my fanfic! Please R&R and let me know what you think. I'm not sure if this chapter makes sense...let me know if you think I got too out of character, and I'll go back and try to fix my mistakes. TTFN! Ta-ta for now! --bounces away like a hyperactive Tigger--  
Johnny: Pity me, for I have to live with her. Please review. That might make her sit still for five minutes...actually, on second thought, don't review. Then she'd be bouncing around even more! --waves to Amanda Saitou and Kerstyn--  
Me: Don't listen to him. REVIEW! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!


	8. The long awaited Kiss

Sorry about the whole delay thingy. First it was my birthday, then it was inventory (I HATE counting things), then it was a friends house and...well, the trip got pushed back until this Sunday, but that doesn't really mean anything. Again, sorry about the delay!  
  
Johnny: Well...here is Chapter Eight. Which would make this tied with the longest fanfic that I've ever had to write.  
Me: Aren't you proud of me?  
Johnny: No, not really.  
Me: pouts Well fine. Anyways, don't own it, never have owned it, and with the way my finances look, probably never will own it. Not making money off of it in any way (otherwise my finances might be looking better). And have a nice day.

Thank you reviewers! **Artemis Eclipse **(again, thanks for getting word to me, even though you couldn't use )**, xikum **(you have capture exactly what I wanted to get across! good!)**, Amanda Saitou **(Johnny gives you a big hug!)**, Kerstyn** (Johnny pulls you into a hug, too!)**, wolfawaken **(wow...--big eyes-- big complement...thank you!)**, SutekhSnape **(not pathetic! very good! and thanks so much)**, Magada Bridger, Lenora, navi-the-sprite **(--grin-- wow! thanks so much...I wanted this to be original!)**, Lady Phasma **(it's coming...eventually)**, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, j752572 **(that makes me feel so _special_! thanks!)**, Mila **(Johnny cringes...you just gave her the idea for suger...)**, Tazthedevilman **(Johnny likes the idea of drugs for me...but nah. Then I wouldn't write. And Audrey? Who? Anyways, thanks for the complement...favorite story...--grin-- love yours, by the way)**, bwaha, Sabby-chan Yaoi Fic, Desdemona321 **(I love your energy! cheers and dances with you**, elvesmagic010 **(yay! I'm glad you like it enough to continue reading! Even if it's not your usual pairing)**, Pure Black. **

I love you all! Seriously!

* * *

Three weeks later, and Harry found he was really enjoying his meetings with Snape. He was becoming closer to the man, in a way he never would have guessed. He didn't want the wonders to stop, because every moment he spent with Snape, was a moment in which he learned something new--both about himself and Snape.  
  
Harry sighed and looked down at his watch again. The minutes were moving slower than he thought possible. Hermione glanced worriedly at him, noticing that he was a little more distracted than usual, but decided not to ask about it. Every time she had asked in the past, Harry had gotten a bit angry and defensive. She didn't want to estrange him more than he already was.  
  
Finally Harry decided that he could go down to the dungeons without looking suspicious in any way. "Okay, I have to go 'talk with Snape,'" he said in his best imitation of being exasperated and annoyed by the thought of it all. "If you don't see me tonight, remember that I was a good person," he said melodramatically as he picked up his books and practically ran out of the room.  
  
He tried to walk calmly down to the dungeons, but he could barely contain himself, and by the end of it he was practically running to Snape's door. He knocked on the door and entered without waiting for Snape to admit him.  
  
Snape looked up surprisedly and then smirked. "Do you really want to talk to me this much Mist--Harry?" Harry took note that Snape had stopped himself from saying 'Mr. Potter' and smiled in a silent show of thanks.  
  
"Well I thought you would have rejoiced at being so liked," Harry said sarcastically, and even he was surprised at his own daring. Snape looked shocked at Harry's words, and then...he laughed.  
  
Severus couldn't contain himself any more. There Harry was, flushed and breathing hard from what appeared to be a brisk trot down to the dungeons to see his feared potions professor, probably the least liked person in the entire school, and he was actually talking back to Severus, making joking remarks like he would with his friends.  
  
After a moment of getting over the shock, Harry smiled as well, though he didn't laugh like Snape had. Harry found that he liked Snape's laugh--not at all like he had pictured it. It was deep and warm, not cold and cruel like he had expected. It was a comforting laugh, and Harry was amazed that he was witnessing it.  
  
Harry sat down across from Snape and waited for him to gather his wits to start talking.  
  
"You know, Harry, I never saw myself as sharing a laugh with you," Snape said, and it wasn't at all what Harry had expected him to say. He had thought they would just politely ignore the topic even though they both knew it was there.  
  
"Yeah," he said uncertainly, his eyes searching Snape for the true meaning of all of this. "Funny how things turn out."  
  
Snape caught Harry's eyes in his and Harry felt he was going to drown in them. They were deep obsidian in color, and they sparkled with knowledge of a joke unknown to anyone. They were mirthful--not at all like they usually were, cold and dark and emotionless. Instead they were warm and inviting, and Harry felt he was losing himself inside them.  
  
Harry grinned nervously and looked away, afraid of what would happen if he kept staring into them. He wasn't sure he would be able to control his actions much longer. They sat in silence for a few more moments, both thinking deeply on what moment was obviously passing between them.  
  
When Snape did speak, Harry was surprised at what was said. "I assume you have noticed this...metaphorical elephant in the room as well?" he asked, his voice almost tired. "Well I do not know about you, but I am tired of dancing around it."  
  
Harry looked sharply back at Snape. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice showing that he knew but did not wish to accept.  
  
"We can never be--not in the way we both want." Severus held his breath in anticipation--he was merely guessing about how Harry felt about him, and he was taking a big risk in acknowledging it...if Harry didn't actually feel that way...he was relieved when his suspicions were confirmed in Harry's eyes, and he gathered the courage to continue. "You and me...we can never happen. Student and teacher, Boy Who Lived and Death Eater. The world will not accept it."  
  
"First, you're former Death Eater turned Spy. You are on the side of the light--the same side as me. Don't try to fool yourself about that. Second, I don't give a damn about the world. Hell, if I did, I'd have failed long ago, or I would flounder under the stress of it all."  
  
"That does not change anything."  
  
"It doesn't?" Harry asked, his eyes searching. Now that he knew Snape cared for him instead of just guessing about it, he would not let Snape get away with it. "Because the only reason it wouldn't change anything is if you were afraid of what the world saw of you. Sure, we might be Professor and Student, Boy Who Lived and Death Eater, but if we don't give a damn, what can the world do about it?"  
  
"A lot more than you'd think," Severus said tiredly. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to deal with this. It was radically different from the last conversation he had had relating to his love life, and at the same time, it was creepily the same...Severus didn't want to think about how similar it really was. He wasn't ready for another relationship, no matter who it was with. Even if the world would accept them, he didn't know if he would. "Anyways, there is more to it than that."  
  
"What could there be?" Harry asked, now a bit temperamental. Severus could see the anger that seemed to live with Harry as of late threatening to surface again. "I've seen the way you look at me--and I don't mean to sound like a conceded brat--but you want this as much as I do." He was standing in front of Snape now, and it was all he could do to not to grab is professor and kiss him.  
  
"With one difference," said Severus, and Harry could hear the hurt in his voice. "I've lived quite a bit longer than you, and I know how this will turn out. You will leave, and I'll be left hurting, just like last time."  
  
"I wasn't there, last time," said Harry, his voice quiet and comforting. "And I'm a different person." He was amazed at his own daring as he put a hand on top of Severus's. "For all we know, you could be the one to leave me."  
  
Severus looked up into Harry's emerald eyes and saw warmth and caring there- -something he hadn't seen concerning him in years...too many years. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he couldn't, but he felt himself caving anyways.  
  
This time, neither of them broke eye contact. They both knew the deep hole they were digging themselves into, but neither cared. All that really mattered was that somehow, they understood each other, and in a world of people who didn't give a damn, that was something to rejoice over.  
  
To Harry, when their lips touched, it felt like perfection. Severus's lips were warm and inviting, and though it was no more than a quick press of lips together, Harry thought that if he died right then, he would be okay with that. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before Harry could feel Severus relax immediately and...wait. When had he started thinking of Snape as 'Severus'? Oh well...he would think about that later. For now, he was completely content with losing himself in this kiss...  
  
For Severus, it was the promise of imminent joy...and the promise of eventual pain. He knew as soon as their lips touched--hell, he had known before either of them had even considered kissing--that this would eventually end up badly for at least one of them. They were putting themselves in a trap and inviting the world to come set it off.  
  
But hell, he was kissing Harry Potter, owner of those lovely green eyes that taunted him every time he managed to get a little shut eye. It was far better than it had been in his dreams. He closed his eyes and forgot about the rest of the world for a moment, deciding that if he only had this one kiss, he would live in the moment and not regret it. For surely, tomorrow, Harry would realize his mistake and tell him off. But those dark thoughts would have to wait, for right now, he was happy. For the first time in almost twenty years, he was truly happy. And to keep his happiness in tact, he wouldn't think about the last time he had been this happy--that would only invite disaster to make its home with him.  
  
In both Harry and Severus's mind, the kiss ended all too soon. They both looked immediately to the clock, and discovered that the entire scene hadn't taken more than twenty minutes. Harry looked to Severus expectantly, but Severus pulled back.  
  
Severus took a moment to collect himself, brushing the non-existent dirt off his robes, and looked back at Harry. "It might be best if we do not take this too far. We might come to regret something."  
  
Harry looked a bit crestfallen, but he nodded his consent. "Yeah. So...what do we do for the next forty minutes?"  
  
Severus was befuddled. "I'm not quite sure," he said after a long pause. "I guess talking is the best course of action."  
  
So they talked--and they didn't stop talking. It was very comfortable, to know they could just talk and do nothing else...even if both wanted to do that something else. Harry kept a goofy smile on--how could he not? And even Severus indulged himself to relax a bit more than usual. The conversation was light and about a plethora of topics that Severus wasn't sure he'd be able to remember everything said even an hour later. Sure, it was mostly Harry contributing to the conversation, but every once in a while, Severus would make some snarky comment or say something a little more personal than he would have before--not that he got personal, mind you. Severus was still not comfortable with this entire idea. He didn't want to regret anything; he didn't want to make Harry regret anything...and most of all, he didn't want to repeat the mistakes of last time.  
  
He would not fall blindly in love with Harry like he had done with Harry's father so many years before...though it might be too late for that already.

* * *

A/N: I used the word "plethora"! Yay! 

Okay, okay. I know it was shorter than I had planned it would be. And I know I just left you with a nice little cliff hanger. And I know it will probably be a while before I update again...but don't you like this chapter? I do. I like it lots. Anyways, at least all you who are guessing (and there aren't many) now know who Severus's secret lover was.  
  
Johnny: You only like it because you see Snape/Harry action. You know that wasn't supposed to happen for another two chapters.  
  
Me: Oh, screw you. I told you that the characters do whatever they want in this story. They do that in every story I write. Get over it. If you want them to do what we planned for them to do, then you put them back in line-- that's your job, anyways. To keep the story going and the characters doing what they're supposed to do. They did that themselves. You can go yell at them this time...because right now, I'm willing to let them get away with it. Ask the readers. I'm sure they're willing to let Snape and Harry get away with this, too. Right, guys and gals?  
  
Please review, as it always makes me smile! I promise, more is happening soon!


	9. Detention

Rating: Getting on the side of R, people. Not quite there _yet_, but be warned.  
Johnny: You know, this is Chapter NINE. You'd think that by NOW, they'd understand that we don't OWN Harry Potter, NOR are we making MONEY off of it.  
Me: Johnny, don't get all worked up. I'm sure they won't charge us for plagiarism.  
J.K. Rowling: You so sure about that?

Yay! Chapter Nine! Which makes this OFFICIALLY the longest fanfic I've ever written. Cokes for everyone! (No, I will NOT give you alcohol! And Pepsi is the root of all evil! Deal with it!) Kudos to those who read. More kudos to those who review! 

Thanks to my reviewers! **Kyomi22 **(no worries--I loved the fluff, too!)**, Tazthedevilman **(glad you liked that, and you're right on the first bit, there)**, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy **(--gets an honored-kinda feeling-- thank you! I will definately do that! I feel so...speacial. Johnny: great, her head's gonna swell even more)**, Pure Black **(uh...then don't read in the future? sorry, Harry is definately gonna find out)**, Sabby-chan Yaoi Fan, Evans **(I'll make sure to include what they think in a couple chapters--and thanks for reading despite the content you don't agree with)**, Potrickterman **(well, thank you, and tell your friend that I say 'hi')**, Minathia** (in that case, you'll like this chapter)**, Amanda Saitou **(I dunno, but that's a good question. Must think. Johnny's cooked cookies especially for you, to go with the cokes)**, WeAreAllPlasticAndGoingToDie** (you'll see)**, Kerstyn **(--grin-- I'm glad you enjoy!)**. **Thank you all! Also, sorry if you're not on there. For some reason, I either have 88 or 94 reviews--my Stats and my profile seem to differ. Is anyone else having that problem? 

****

* * *

Harry twiddled his thumbs and hoped Severus wasn't too angry. He hadn't _meant_ to become distracted during Potions...it had just...happened. One minute he was adding the dragon's skin, the next he was staring at Severus...and before he knew it, his potion was boiling over, having been ruined a good two minutes before. 

"Come in," said Severus icily. Harry meekly entered his office with his head bowed. "What, Mr. Potter, in God's name, happened?"

"I got distracted," answered Harry quietly. He figured it wasn't a good time to argue his name. "I'm sorry," he added for good measure.

" 'Sorry' does not cover the cost of the cauldron you ruined. Detention tonight and twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry stared at Severus, outraged. "What?!" he shouted. "I thought--I thought--"

Snape leaned forward in his chair and asked icily, "What, pray tell, did you think, Mr. Potter. That you would get special treatment because of our...activities last night?" Severus sneered. "Do not think that just because we--do not think that I will be more lenient to you. I may even be harsher." Harry caught Severus's rephrasing and nodded meekly. He left without another word.

* * *

Harry trudged down to the dungeons with a sour look on his face and a heavy heart. He entered the potions classroom with his head hanging low, and he couldn't bring himself to look up at Severus. 

"Mr. Potter. Instead of making you do...some of the more interesting work I had planned, I have decided that we need to talk." There was a bit of uncertainty in Severus's voice, and that immediately put Harry on guard.

Suddenly Harry's mind was whirling. What would Snape say? Harry knew that Snape wasn't comfortable with the idea--but did he really want to end it? Was he really that disgusted with Harry? They had just started, and Harry didn't want it to stop. At least not until they had seen what would happen.

"What happened last night was a mistake," he said matter-of-factly, deciding it would do no good to dance around the subject like an idiot. Harry slumped down in his chair, unable to hide the feeling of hurt he had. But Severus didn't notice this. "I know you do not want to continue this, and I'm sorry for my rash behavior. I will understand if you report me to--"

"WHAT?" interrupted Harry. "Hold on a second. _You_ think that _I_ don't want to continue this? Professor, think about it. What did I say last night?" Severus was quiet. "Exactly. I wouldn't have said that if I wasn't committed."

Severus sighed. "Even so. It was a mistake. We are setting ourselves in a trap, Harry. We are two moths drawn to two separate but equally dangerous flames. Our lives are completely different and our goals are opposite. It will not work. We are _both_ going to get burned."

Harry leaned forward in his chair and looked right at Severus, his eyes burning with an intensity Severus didn't know he possessed. "Professor, listen to me. We may be two moths drawn to a dangerous flame, but it's the _same_ flame--just viewed from different perspectives. I think our goals are remarkably similar, and I think our lives are more similiar than you would wish to admit. We have both been hurt--and we both want someone to understand us desperately. Who to better understand than the one in the same boat?"

Severus bowed his head. "It is morally wrong to do what we are doing. No one could find out--and _if_ someone _did_ find out, I would be fired and publicly shamed, and you would either be shamed or risen even higher as a hero--the poor boy who was sexually assaulted by his evil potions professor."

"First, I don't give a damn about morals." Severus snorted. "Nothing is morally wrong when put in the right light. Second, no one _would_ find out if we were secretive about it. And third, _if_ someone found out, I would tell the world about it and dare them to even _think_ about debasing or belittling you."

"Harry, you cannot say that. How will you feel when your friends find out--and they _will_ find out--and what will they say? Who is to say that you will not regret it all?"

Harry sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. He thought for a moment, and then said, "I do not know if I would regret it then, but I know I would regret it now if we didn't try it and see where it led. And as for my friends--let me deal with that _when_ the time comes and _not_ before."

Severus nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, and Severus found that he was getting mighty uncomfortable with it all. Instead of sitting in silence for an indefinite amount of time, he decided to get on with the detention. "For your detention, you can clean out all the cauldrons without magic. And Harry--you cannot become distracted like that in class again. Potions can be very dangerous when the brewer is inattentive, and anyways--people will notice and begin to wonder."

Harry nodded and accepted his detention. He would have plenty of time to get closer to Severus some other time, and Severus had made it quite clear that Harry would get no special treatment. "Yes, Professor."

"And Harry. We're in private. Though you can't call me 'Severus' in public, do _not_ call me 'Professor' when we're in private."

Harry grinned and began scrubbing cauldrons immediately. Ron was flabbergasted later to hear that Harry had had a _good_ time in detention with Snape.

* * *

Harry walked nervously down to the Potions classroom. Though he had set things straight with Severus during detention last Thursday, Severus still might call it all off. Harry was worried that Severus would run at the slightest threat to them...and that worried Harry. Anything said or done could send Severus off, and Harry would never be able to get him back. 

Harry knocked on the door, and it swung open immediately--almost as if Severus was anticipating his arrival. "Hello, Pro--Severus." This time, it was Severus who noted that Harry had corrected himself.

"Hello, Harry." Harry sat opposite Severus and looked down at his feet. Severus stared for a few moments, and then sighed exasperatedly. "Harry, I am not going to attempt to call this off again. Calm your nerves, boy. Even if I _did_ try to persuade you that this was not a good idea once again, I do not believe you would accept it, and then I would be stuck with a pestering celebrity for the rest of my life."

Harry was relieved that Severus wasn't going to continue on his previous plan of action. "Yeah," he said stupidly, a silly grin plastered on his face. "I was just, you know, I just didn't--I'm going to shut up now," he said at the look on Severus's face.

Severus grinned. "Good. I was becoming annoyed with your idiotic ramblings. Now, what did you do today?"

Harry explained his day--everything from what he ate to Neville's latest blunder was explained to Severus, though Harry made sure to keep it short and somewhat interesting--well, as short and interesting as he could make it. When he finally ended, he asked, "And what did you get up to?"

Severus balked. He hadn't thought that Harry would ask that question--his life really was not that interesting. But alas, Harry was far too polite to be the only one talking. "I'm a teacher--I taught classes. I do not see _why_ I am a teacher, however--the students are hopeless, anyways." Severus waved his hands dismissively, thinking the subject over and done with, but Harry had other ideas.

"Surely you did something else today."

Severus sighed, almost regretting how disappointingly _boring_ his life was. "No, Harry, I did nothing of interest today. It may surprise you, but there is not much I do in my life other than teach and brew potions."

Harry nodded. Then a playful and mischievous smile came to his lips. Severus raised a single eyebrow but decided it was best not to ask. "Well," said Harry as he stood up and stepped closer to Severus, "let's make your life interesting."

Harry walked around the side of the desk and sat in the lap of a very surprised Severus--he was sure no one had _ever_ sat in his lap before, and it was quite a...different experience. Harry wasn't stopping there, though. He leaned down and kissed Severus.

The kiss was gentle and tentative at first. Harry was testing the waters, making sure that Severus didn't pull back. When he didn't, Harry found the courage to kiss stronger and more boldly. He wrapped his arms around the dark man's neck and moved so that he was straddling Severus's lap, entwining his fingers in dark, sinuey hair. If he hadn't been absorbed in the kiss, he would have noticed that the hair was not greasy at all--just shiny from being immacuately groomed.

Once Severus had gotten over the initial shock of Harry's boldness, he did two things: first, he placed a locking charm on his door so that they could not be interrupted, and second, he kissed back. He wasn't aware of wrapping his arms around Harry's waist, but they suddenly were, and Severus was too absorbed in the moment to even consider removing them.

The kiss lasted for long minutes, and Harry wasn't exactly sure how long it had been when he pulled back for a breath of air. He was about to go back into the kiss when Severus mutely shook his head, signaling that he wished to take a break for a moment. Though Harry was a bit disappointed in this new development, he settled for resting his forehead against Severus's and closing his eyes in contentment.

They sat like that for a long moment before Harry realized exactly _why_ Severus had probably wanted to stop. There, pressing into his bum, was the feeling of a hard object pressing into him. Harry grinned manically as he realized that Severus had a hard on--and the thought immediately made his already hard cock ache even more.

"Severus," he whispered. Severus scowled at the silence being broken but let Harry continue. Harry thought of a tactful way of putting it, but there was none. "Are you _turned on_ by our little kiss?" he asked playfully. He gave a little wiggle to emphasize his point.

Severus's scowl deepened. "You should be the one to talk, you know. You're about as soft as a rock."

Harry chuckled softly. "Can I help it if my Potions Master is a sexy beast?" Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Just kidding."

Harry leaned in for another kiss, and Severus met him halfway. Before it could get too heated, though, Severus said, "It is time for you to go, Harry. People will wonder why you are staying overtime in these meetings you are supposed to hate."

Harry sighed in frustration. "Damnit! And it was just getting good!"

Severus chuckled and leaned in for another quick kiss. He would never be able to get enough of those soft lips, he decided. Harry was just to hear him laugh. "Go. Before Granger and Weasley send a search party."

Harry nodded and left the room, but not after pulling Severus into one more passionate kiss and promising to continue where they had left off next week. Severus was seriously considering finding an excuse to nail Harry with detention so he wouldn't have to wait so long.

* * *

A/N: Don't you love me for updating? That's my little piece of Severus/Harry action that I've been craving to write for so long. Short, and OOC, but hey--who's complaining? I'll shoot 'em. Expect more in the future, though how soon, I don't know. Tata for now, my dearies!  
Johnny: See that little button in the bottom-left corner? Yeah, the one that says "Submit review"? It's a wonderful device, really. Let us know what you think. 


	10. Sairlains

**Yay! 100 reviews!** Speical thanks to both **Fire Tempest** and **Amanda Saitou**--I don't know which of you was _actually_ my 100th reviewer, so I'll thank both of you--you both deserve the credit! (Johnny pats Amanda on the back for her achievement--no, Fire Tempest, he doesn't hate you; he's just biast to whom talks to him).

**Rating**: PG. Nothing bad happens. You just shouldn't be reading slash. Note that from here on out, I don't give a damn about the rating. It changes chapter by chapter, but know that some chapters will be R.

**Disclaimer**: If it looks like a dog, and sounds like a dog it probably has fleas like a dog. If it looks like a poor, hopeless fanfiction writer, sounds like a poor, hopeless fanfiction writer, it probably doesn't own Harry Potter like a poor, hopeless fanfiction writer. In other, simpler words for those who do not understand what I am saying, I don't own Harry Potter. I do own one thing in this chapter, but you have yet to meet it, so I won't explian.

**A/N:** Well...I feel like I have no plot. And I probably don't. In the next few chapters I will be attempting to gain the semblance of a somewhat tangible plotline. So sue me if it doesn't seem to fit in with the other chapters.

To all my reviewers, thank you! **Tazthedevilman** (--stunned Johnny-- Well...that was...interesting. Are you two hyper? Hugs to you two, too.)**, Miki23** (lol. Glad you're liking it!)**, minathia, Taya, j752572** (--grin-- I have corrupted another! Yay! Aren't you so happy? lol. I'm glad you're a Snarry-shipper now!)**, Amanda Saitou** (Johnny thanks you for the cookies (he wouldn't give me any!), and I thank you for the wonderful compliment)**, Lady Nicole Malfoy, Harry-Snape** (what a wonderful compliment!)**, The-Magnificent-Fuzzy, silentauror** (why thank you! Harry and Sev will talk soon, no worries.)**, Desdemona321, Fire Temest.** I love you all!

* * *

Harry sat up late long after he had come back from Severus's room and had gone to bed. What was he going to do? As soon has he had reached the common room and Ron had asked him "How was torture?" Harry knew he was in trouble. He couldn't tell his friends. He couldn't share the best thing that had happened to him in years with his best friends. It was killing him. 

He had known that he would have to keep his relationship with Severus a secret...but when he was committing to that, he had just...overlooked his friends. His friends hadn't been in his daydreams of Severus, and when the question of his friends had come up, that they had known and accepted had been a given.

Harry wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for a relationship with the most hated man in the school. He wasn't ready for not letting his friends known--he had _always_ unburdened on them before, and now he couldn't. He wasn't sure if he was ready for the relationship at _all_.

But...that wasn't fair to Severus, and Harry knew it. He had convinced and cajoled and forced Severus into this, and now he wanted to back out? He couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt Severus in that way--he had virtually promised Severus that he wouldn't. And though his 'promise' hadn't even been acknowledged or written in stone by either of them, it was still there.

Plus there was the fact that when Harry was with Severus, he felt...whole. There was no other way to describe it. He was content and happy and complete, all in one. He felt safe wrapped in Severus's arms, and though he knew it was stupid and sentimental and crazy--who could feel _safe_ with _Severus_?--he knew it was true, too. He didn't know _how_ he knew it was true, but it was true none-the-less. He trusted Severus. No matter how stupid that was.

Harry eventually decided that he would take things as they came. He would talk to Severus about telling Ron and Hermione--but not for a while. He wasn't quite sure Severus even wanted _Harry_ to know they were in a relationship. And no matter how painful it was to not let his two best friends know, he decided it was the best solution at the moment.

There was another problem Harry was brooding over, though, and this one seemed much more pressing. Not more important, just more iminent--and a bit harder to solve.

What would he get Severus for christmas?

* * *

Harry had decided that the best way to shop for Severus was to browse Hogsmeade and see if anything caught his eye. Luckily, the last Hogsmeade trip for the year was this weekend, and he had convinced his friends to let him do his shopping on his own--much to their displeasure. Eventually they had aqueised the point--nevermind the fact that they were still following a couple shops down for most of the day. 

Harry went into store after store, but there was nothing he could buy for Severus. Nothing caught his eye.

He wouldn't know what potions to get him. He didn't want to try books, as he had yet to discover if Severus even had a collection of books to read o what would be in it (though Harry had a sneeking suspicion that Severus had a lot of books, most of which revolved around potions and curses). He didn't want to get anything to promising, like a ring. And he didn't want to get something too sentimental, like the pendant with the lion entwined with the snake that he had seen. This was going very poorly. Then Harry found it.

Harry was browsing idly, trying to ignore the persistent shopkeeper, when he first laid eyes on it. It was a silver box and it was very plain at first sight--Harry had looked right over it and moved on for a few feet before he had rushed back to take a second look at it.

Though the box had _looked_ plain at first, when Harry looked closer, he found intricate carvings all along the sides of it. He couldn't quite make out what the carvings were, though, and he desperately wanted to know what they were. After a long moment of staring, he discerned that it was a mass of writhing snakes on the box. And the reason he couldn't tell what the carvings had been at first was because the snakes were moving on their own accord--in, out, over and under, the snakes were slithering around each other constantly.

"How much?" asked Harry, looking up at the shopkeeper suddenly.

The shopkeeper took a step back at the intensity of Harry's glare. "Ten galleons, if you can get it in the first place." The shopkeeper snorted. "I haven't been able to move it since an old man came in twenty years ago and put it there. "

Harry's curiosity was piked. "Why not?"

"Every time I touch it, I feel like my hand is being pricked by a thousand needles. Sometimes it feels as if I'm being _bitten_." The shopkeeper scoffed. "As if a box could bite me. When I tried picking it up with tongs, they became hot and I couldn't touch them. Magic backfired when I tried levitating it."

Harry found that the notion didn't actually surprise him that much. If the snakes could move like that, the box probably already had other enchantments on it, the nature of which Harry could only guess at. "I'll take it." Harry piled the money on the table. The box was probably worth a lot more, but it seemed as if the shopkeeper wanted it gone.

Harry reached down gingerly and touched the box. He could almost feel the snakes writing under him, but instead of biting him, they seemed to all be trying to touch him at the same time. Harry picked the box up gingerly and asked for a bag, which the shopkeeper handed over nervously. He was obviously disturbed with Harry's ability to move the box.

"Thank you," said Harry politely as he hurried out the door. Ron and Hermione were about twenty feet down the street, but Harry ignored them and went to finish the rest of his shopping. He was happy--he had something for Severus. Something that the potions master would probably like--it was such a mysterious item that maybe Severus would find it interesting or something like that. If nothing else, it was a beautiful box.

* * *

Harry sat up late that night, admiring his beautiful new gift. He turned it this way and that, looking at its every detail and running his fingers over every groove. 

To say the least, he was a bit surprised when the box spoke to him.

_Hello_, it said. It was an odd sensation, hearing the box speak--it sounded like one voice, but at the same time, it was hundreds of voices--every single snake was speaking in unison. _What is your name?_

Deep down inside, Harry registered that it was speaking parseltongue, but he did not register speaking in parseltongue back. He was just lucky that everyone else was asleep and he was speaking quietly. _I'm Harry. Who are you?_

_We are the Sairlains. It is nice to meet you Harry_

Harry thought for a moment before speaking again. _What are you?_ he asked as politely as he could.

The snakes--Sairlains--chuckled, a hissing sound that seemed soothing and scarey at the same time. _Do not worry, young one. We will not be offended, and we will not bite you._ Harry wondered how they knew exactly what he was thinking, but he put the thought aside. _We are merely protectors. Nothing more, nothing less. But we will protect whatever you wish us to protect._

Harry could see a mistake. _Oh, but I'm not going to keep you,_ he said hurriedly. _You're a gift for someone very special to me._

_In that case, we will protect him._ Harry wasn't sure he wanted Severus to know he was being protected by a gift. _Do not fear. We will not tell him._ Harry wasn't sure how they knew it was a him, but he wasn't going to ask. He was tired as it was, and it was going to be a long day tomorrow. And the worst part was that he wouldn't be able to spend time with Severus again until Wednesday.

_Good night, Sairlains. We will speak again later._

Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard the Sairlains talking about him before he went to sleep. Or maybe they were just singing him a lullabye. He couldn't be sure.

* * *

A/N: Okay, that was insanely sappy and I hate that chapter. It's pointless, in my opinion...but, sadly, it's necessary. I also think it's too much like other stories...not original...--humph-- Please let me know what you think of my box and the Sairlains. I'm not sure about them and I need encouragement. Sorry it was so short, but this chapter was more a filler than anything else. To keep you sated, you know. Not about to slit my throat if I don't update. Interesting things will happen next chapter.

A/N2: If you do not have the time to review, then I do not have the time to write. Please and thank you!


	11. Care

**Sorry it took so long!!!! Forgive me, please!!! I bow down to the alimighty glory of my readers!! I love you all!**

**Disclaimer**: Do people even read these? Oh well...they're getting quite annoying to write. Actually, they've been annoying to write. Ignore my inane babble. If you ARE reading this, you have no life. Remember, my dear Sairlains are my own. Do not use them.  
Johnny: I came up with that idea!  
Me: He is so full of himself.  
**WARNING**: A certain... "scene" has been taken out to comply with 's rules. Damn rules. Anyways, this means that there is no sex in this chapter, though there is meant to be. If you wish to see the entire chapter, please visit my journal ) and leave a comment there with your email address, leave a review with your email written in it (I will not send it to you if I have to find your email), or (preferably) email me at Thanks.

**A/N:** One by one the penguins steal my sanity.

**Disclaimer #2:** I don't actually own said statement about sanity. Don't sue me for it, either. That's the entire reason I write these damned disclaimers!

Thanks to my reviewers! Due to the large amount of reviewers, though, I cannot mention everyone without taking up far too much space (which, in a sense, is good--it means I have lots of reviews for the last chapter; 22, to be exact. Now...if only I could get 30 reviews for this next chapter --hint hint--). For full credits of my reviewers and for a response to almost **everyone**, please visit my livejournal. And leave comments there...please? I want to know that people read it. And leave comments there...please? I want to know that people read it. Thanks!

**Johnny would like to put up a special thanks to the people who mention him--this was, by far, the most notice he's gotten in a very, very long time.**

* * *

Severus was waiting for Harry to come down to his classroom. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, frustrated with Harry's inability to hurry. For once, it was a Monday--most of the students had gone home over the break and they had decided that it would be safe to make visits more frequent, though Severus had protested them being every day.

Damn that boy's persuasiveness. It had only taken one kiss for him to agree. Too bad the boy wasn't as good at Potions as he was at kissing. Damn, now he was thinking about Harry kissing him...this wasn't going well.

He waved the door open before Harry even knocked a second time.

"Eager, are we?" he teased. Severus hated it when he teased...then again, it was totally endearing. He was seriously beginning to consider his health. What was this boy doing to him?

Severus merely grunted. He swept Harry into a breathtaking kiss instead. After a moment, Harry pulled back. He began to wave at the door, thinking to lock it, but Severus interrupted him.

Instead of locking the door this time (they had had a scare last time, when a Slytherin had come to ask the Head of House for something), Severus pulled Harry back into his office. Muttering the password, he then proceeded to pull Harry into his personal chambers.

Harry couldn't help but stare. Though it was by no means cozy, it was definitely a comfortable place. Multiple rugs were strewn across the floors to take away the dungeon's chill, and a couple of tapestries hung on the walls. There was an enchanted fireplace and two soft-looking armchairs and a couch to the left, and to the right sat a mini-kitchen with a table that could seat at least four. Harry briefly pondered who Snape would invite to eat, then brushed the thought away as unimportant.

There were two side doors; one would have to be Severus's bedroom, and the other was probably a personal lab. Harry figured the bathroom was connected to the bedroom since he didn't see another door for it.

All in all, Harry was quite pleased--he wouldn't mind coming down even more, now. He grinned--Severus didn't usually show this amount of openness, and Severus's own chambers were quite personal, if you asked Harry. Even though the rooms still held an atmosphere of detachment or indifference, the rooms were really nice. He was glad just to know what they looked like.

Harry didn't balk at expressing his gratitude--he flung his arms around Severus's neck and kissed him enthusiastically. Severus grinned reluctantly into the kiss and snaked his own arms around Harry's waist, figuring that things could definitely be worse. A lot worse.

When the kiss was finally broken, Harry found that he was now sitting with Severus on the couch. He didn't remember ever moving, but Severus tended to have that effect on him.

Harry leaned his head against Severus's chest and sighed contentedly. "Thank you, Sev."

"For what?" Severus's fingers began running restlessly through Harry's hair, but Harry didn't mind. It was quite comforting, actually.

"Letting me into your life." The movement of fingers through hair paused for a moment, the only sign that the answer both surprised and intimidated Severus, and then began again, the sign that Severus's walls were back in place and he was composed once again.

They sat in silence for a long while, Harry content to merely be held by Severus. At some point in time they moved so that they were lying side by side on the couch, Harry on top and nearly asleep.

Before Harry could drift off into that wonderful, blissful world of sleep, Severus interrupted the silence. "Did you call me 'Sev'?"

Harry burst out laughing. "What about it?" he managed through the chuckles.

"I did not know we had progressed to the stage of nicknames."

"Do you mind?" Harry held his breath--was Severus comfortable enough to let Harry use a nickname? It seemed a silly thing to argue about, but Severus shied away from all intimateness, and nicknames alluded to a state of comfort that he might not want to have at the moment.

"No," he said after a long moment. "Just do not call me 'Sevvie.' I might be forced to use potions with...unpleasant results." Harry chuckled again and laid his head back down to sleep once again. This time he succeeded in getting to a doze before he was rudely awakened once again.

"What exactly would you define our relationship, Harry?" Severus asked after a long moment.

Harry immediately realized that this had probably taken a lot of effort to say. This also brought the realization that Severus was probably quite insecure about his relationship with Harry in the first place. Harry needed to handle this with care--to tell the truth, he wasn't even sure how he would define it. It just...was.

And he figured that there was no better explanation than the truth. "It just is, Severus." Harry was searching for the right words to explain his feelings, but they weren't surrendering themselves easily. "There...there are no bounds to our relationship. It's...hard to describe." Harry couldn't believe he was giving a pep talk to his potions master about their love life. This was too unreal. "We're not exactly lovers--that's too lovey-dovey, and we'd have to make love for it to work in the first place. We're not boyfriends--that's too childish, too defined and far too uncertain a term. We're not lusting after each other--how would you explain the talking? This right now? And we're not apart." Harry knew that he understood better now, but he wasn't sure about Severus. It would have to do. "Does that make sense?"

Severus took a long time to answer. "No." Harry grinned, though he was too tired to laugh outright. Leave it to Severus to be frank. "But it helps." Harry wasn't expecting that. At all. His smile became very content, and he realized that Severus might actually let him sleep now. Good--he was quite tired.

Severus traced his fingers in random patterns over Harry's back as the boy drifted into a state of unconsciousness. He couldn't help but study the soft contours of Harry's face--the way he was smiling slightly, and how his entire face was completely relaxed. Severus would never have believed Harry to be completely relaxed had it been two months ago. Now he was sleeping in Severus's arms. Severus couldn't help but wonder how things had changed so quickly--and if these changes were actually for the best. He hoped they were.

* * *

Harry really didn't want to wake up, but his mind refused to stay asleep any longer. But I was having such a nice dream...he thought.

Yes, the snarky voice in his head replied. And your dream could come much better and much more realistic if you would only WAKE UP!

Harry was slowly dragged out of his state of stupor, no matter how unwilling he was to do so. His eyes were heavy but he managed to open them a crack. He found himself looking straight into the blackest eyes he had ever seen, and he was entranced. Those eyes...they possessed so much knowledge and so many mysteries. One could study them all day.

The eyes suddenly became amused, and Harry found that he was staring straight into the eyes of Severus. He smiled groggily and closed his eyes again, figuring that if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. No, scratch that. He just didn't want to wake up. Those arms wrapped around him...holding him safely...the warmth under him, supporting him...

Wake up, already! the voice screamed.

"I hate you...just let me sleep..." Harry murmured, attempting to tell the damned voice off...which wasn't working.

"What was that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry figured it was too much effort to keep asleep, so he forced his eyes open. They protested, but Harry finally got them to obey. It took a while. "Nothing," Harry muttered. "Telling my voice to shut up."

"Your voice?" Severus couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

Harry didn't have enough energy to argue. "Yes, my voice. It was telling me to wake up."

"Ah," said Severus, as if he had suddenly come to understand the most important information in the world. "And what else does your voice say to do?"

Harry rolled his head to one side and closed his eyes again. "Promise not to laugh?" A grunt. Harry took it as a yes, as he didn't have the energy to ask for clarification. "It says I should be attempting to turn my dreams into reality. In other words, fuck you senseless." Harry didn't really realize what he had said; his brain was too muddled to help him watch what he was saying.

"Oh, really. Well. We should do something about this voice. It may be affecting your health." Harry murmured something unintelligible. "What?"

"Like you give a damn about my health." Harry's head fell to the other side.

Severus chuckled. "What would you say the best way to shut your voice up is?" he asked as innocently as he could. Harry didn't notice the hand that was slowly pulling his shirt up and exposing his back. Instead, Harry just gave a weak shrug. It took too much energy to talk. "Well I say that if we make your voice happy it will be much more likely to be quiet."

Harry was awake now, and he was suddenly aware of the hands that were attempting to pull his shirt over his head. Severus had been pent up for far too long, Harry realized. He ignored that his voice was actually cheering him on in the background. Currently he was dealing with getting over the shock of what Severus was suggesting...if he was suggesting anything? Harry couldn't remember what he'd said to put Severus in such a mood now.

Instead of pondering the meaning of life any longer, he decided that the best and most pleasurable course of action was to go along with Severus. He helped get the shirt off his head and maneuvered so that Severus could do the same. Harry was quite frustrated by the time the shirt had come off--there were far too many buttons on it, he decided.

Much kissing and removing of clothes later, they had reduced themselves to softer, gentler kisses, but there was still a desperateness to them that Harry couldn't define. Severus's hands were restless, and Harry found that he was wondering what the professor really wanted to touch.

They took a break from kissing, and though Harry found it mighty hard to concentrate with the touches Severus was placing on him, they managed to carry on a conversation.

In hushed tones, they talked. It was a relaxed talk, though both knew that the results could depend on the questions asked and answers given.

"Harry..." Severus began. "Do you want this?" he asked after a moment of thinking.

Harry kissed Severus gently. "Yes," he murmured right up against Severus's mouth, their lips touching lightly with the movement. "More than you'd believe."

Severus seemed to accept this, though Harry could tell he was still unsure. He didn't know when, exactly, he had become able to read the man so well. He knew that if at the beginning of the year, if asked what Harry believed his professor was thinking, he wouldn't have had a clue. Now he could tell--from the tightening of the mouth or the relaxation of the shoulders. No matter how subtle the movement, Harry could now use his newfound knowledge to read whatever the close-faced man was feeling. He felt very accomplished with himself, to say the least.

Harry knew he had to break the silence, to keep Severus from his brooding. "Do you want it?" he asked. He wasn't sure how he knew the answer already, but he knew what was coming--though he couldn't stop from feeling a bit nervous while Severus decided upon his answer.

"Yes." No extra words, no encouragement or assurance. Severus was so matter-of-fact with everything. At times it was comforting, to know that what Severus was saying was the truth without fancy words to disguise it, but at other times it was quite frustrating. Severus didn't elaborate where details weren't necessary to the understanding of the meaning, even if the details sometimes made everything easier to accept.

"Good." Harry kissed Severus lazily. "In that case, where were we?"

Severus grinned at Harry's boldness--even lately, the boy was not usually so bold as to speak such thoughts. "Right here, I believe."

* * *

Severus dragged himself back on top of Harry and moved so that they were lying side by side. They wrapped their arms around each other's waists and kissed slowly. They never broke eye contact, and Harry savored the taste of himself on Severus, blissfully aware of the beauty of it all.

Harry fell asleep after a few minutes, exhausted from the activity. Severus found he was quite hungry, but he couldn't bring himself to moving so that he could summon some food. Instead he smiled contentedly, resting his head on top of Harry's, and pondered the day. He went over every moment, every word in his head. He soon found that he had to stop, as he was becoming painfully aroused again, which would just not do.

After an hour or so, Severus was able to doze--something he hadn't done in the presence of another for years. It was amazing that Harry could be so relaxing to him, that he could be so comfortable around the boy, that he was able to forget years of training himself to always be tense and alert in the presence of others--no matter who the other was. He had trained himself to always be fully awake when in another's presence--that's what being a spy for the most powerful, evil wizard did for you. Severus was surprised to find that he actually trusted Harry. He hadn't trusted anyone in so long...not since Harry's father, and look how that had turned out. The thought was daunting.

And all Harry had to do was accept him and he was taking a nap in the arms of his newfound lover. But Severus found that the term "lover" didn't really seem to suit his relationship with Harry--yes, they were that, but they were also so much more.

* * *

Harry was rudely and sharply awoken by a sudden pain in his scar. Severus was similarly awoken by a burning on his left arm. Harry looked at Severus with fear in his eyes--he knew what was happening.

Harry swallowed and tried to speak. He had to try a couple more times before he could get the words by the lump in his throat. "Go. Come back," he finally said.

Severus was getting dressed hurriedly, and when he turned around, he could see the fear in Harry's eyes, and suddenly he was afraid as well. "I will," he said. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Harry's forehead. "I promise." And with that, Severus was gone.

After a moment, Severus realized that no one had ever feared for his life before. No one had ever cared when he was called to the Dark Lord's side.

Maybe Harry was different from his father. Maybe this could work.

* * *

**A/N:** Now, all together. "Awwww!" Okay, so maybe it was a bit too fluffy. I couldn't help it. It was just so sweet...okay, I see that you're all rolling your eyes at this. And, no doubt, I'll probably be reprimanded for making it so sweet. But this is my fanfic, and I will do whatever I please with it! blows a childish raspberry So there!

Johnny: Ignore her. Instead of reading her inane babble, review. There's a good little reader. pets readers who review on head


	12. Photo Album

Disclaimer: The only things Harry Potter-related that I own are the books that I've bought. If you wish to sue me for those, I'm sure I can dig up the receipts. If I come to own anything else related to Rowling's wonderful world of wizards, I will let you know. Until then, don't sue me just because I like to express my own, sick, twisted fantasies using her characters.

Johnny: Here, here!

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers--you guys keep me going! Mwah! Mwah! (for those of you who don't know, that was the sound of me blowing you all kisses)

**Hey everybody! Thanks for the WONDERFUL reviews. You have NO idea how much they make me smile! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update...it's called "school." Anyways, since I had 24 WONDERFUL REVIEWERS, and I cannot post thanks on this anymore because it would take too much space, PLEASE visit my livejournal at All responses will be there! And drop me a note!

* * *

**Harry laid on Severus's couch for a while after he had left, brooding over past events. The first thing that came to mind was their relationship--what was it, exactly? What would he tell people when--if--they ever came out in the open? How would it be defined? No matter what Harry had told Severus, this still bothered him. But, alas, he figured there was no point in brooding over it further.

The second thing that bothered him was Voldemort. What was Severus doing right now? Was he safe? Harry decided to ask Dumbledore about the added precautions taken for Severus's safety; maybe he could help with some of them. Harry couldn't help worrying--it was in his nature.

The last thing that bothered him was Severus. Sure, right now he seemed fine with what they had done, but Harry figured that later on he would be regretting it. He would battle with his conscious, and Harry was worried on the outcome. Then there was the thing Severus was hiding...sure, Severus hadn't mentioned it tonight, but it was still there, Harry knew. There was a secret he was keeping, and Harry really wanted to know what it was. Harry was sure that whatever it was, it had contributed to the Severus he knew now--cold, cautious and hurt (not that Severus would ever admit to being hurt, physically or mentally). The best way to fix a problem was to get to the root of it, and Harry really wanted to help fix whatever could be fixed of Severus.

Harry signed and rubbed his temples. It was too much for him to think about right now, and if he didn't go back now he would get in trouble. It was early morning, Harry guessed, which meant that the House Elves would be getting up soon to light the fires in the castle; if he wasn't in his bed, they might notice.

Harry rolled off the couch and blindly gathered his clothes. Sometime last night, he had taken his glasses off--they were interfering with his kissing. Now he had no idea where he had put them. He muttered and groped around the room until he finally found them, halfway under one of the chairs.

"How did they get...never mind. I don't want to know," he muttered to himself. As he put them on, his eyes came to rest on something else. It looked like...a photo album? Harry didn't know Severus had one.

Harry pulled it out from under the armchair; it looked like it hadn't been looked through in a while, as it had a lot of dust on it. Harry pulled himself into the armchair and rested the book on his lap, reverently opening to the first page.

There was Severus as a student, looking sullen and annoyed with whoever was taking the picture. Every minute or so he would mutter something under his breath, roll his eyes and turn around so that his back was to the camera. Something would be said or done, he would turn around and then mutter some more. Harry grinned--obviously, Severus had never been the most social person, even if he had gotten worse for some reason.

Many of the pictures were similar, though the settings and people changed. Always, when Severus was actually in the picture (some of the pictures were of people Harry assumed to be friends of Severus), he was mumbling under his breath, obviously annoyed at having to be in the picture at all. Harry saw a couple pictures of Lucius, but it was mostly of people Harry didn't know. Harry watched as the Severus in the pictures slowly grew up and matured, going through different years at Hogwarts. It was very quaint, Harry decided.

A little more than halfway through the book, the pictures suddenly changed. Harry's jaw dropped at the first picture that was different. First off, Harry noticed that Severus was actually smiling--he was enjoying this picture. Second, Severus was playing around in the picture with someone else. And third...was that...? No. It couldn't be.

But it was. The person in the picture with Severus was James. His father. Harry couldn't wrap his mind around the concept.

Harry started flipping through the book a little more hurriedly and with a lot more desperation. Severus was in every picture now, and he was always accompanied by James. There was never anyone else in the pictures--Harry could only assume that James and Severus were the only ones who knew about the photos.

Suddenly he stopped. On a subconscious level, he had known that these pictures were pictures of a couple--James and Severus had been dating. But his mind hadn't accepted that fact until now, when he saw a picture of James and Severus kissing. It wasn't a quick kiss--it was deep, passionate...intimate. Harry felt like an intruder in watching the picture move. They didn't even take note of whoever was taking the picture--all that mattered was each other. When their hands began to stray and take off clothing, Harry slammed the book shut. He didn't want to see any more.

And yet...Something pulled Harry back to the picture. Something had happened. Something had made Severus stop loving James.

No. That wasn't it, Harry realized. Something had happened, yes--but it was James that had stopped loving Severus. It all began to come together--how Severus was afraid of relationships, especially with him, who looked so much like his father. How James had hurt him so badly, and how he could never be able to forgive James. Everything.

There were no pictures after the one of them kissing. Almost a quarter of the book was empty. It seemed that Severus had lost his desire of keeping a memory of anything after that kiss...maybe all the memories were bad, and Severus wanted to leave it on a good note. But there was no denying what it meant--something terrible had happened. Something between his father and his lover.

Harry's hands were shaking and tears were threatening to fall, but he brushed them away before they ever came. He stood up, angry for a reason he couldn't define to himself. He was angry with Severus, his father, himself and everything in the world at the same time. Why hadn't Severus told him? Why had his father hurt Severus? Why hadn't he seen the signs before? Why was the world so cruel? All these questions and more raced through his head.

Harry ran up to the Gryffindor room, uncaring as to if he was seen by anyone. Once finally there, he threw himself down onto a couch in the empty common room and cried himself to sleep. Hopefully, no one would bother waking him. Luckily, no one was there to do so.

* * *

Harry woke some time after breakfast, but he didn't feel like going down to the kitchens to get food. He just didn't have the heart. Instead, he stayed on the couch in the exact same position he had fallen asleep in for a long while. His eyes were probably puffy and red, and they stung horribly, but he didn't care. He was numb to everything; he didn't even feel it when a house elf pulled on his leggings, asking if he wanted to go get some lunch. His thoughts were rushing around in his head but getting no where. They just kept repeating over and over. Harry didn't have enough energy or will power to make any conclusions or take any sort of action whatsoever. He just wanted to curl up and die.

It was a couple hours after lunch when Harry finally mustered the strength and desire to move, but his movements were without any purpose at all.

Severus was probably back. He could go down to the dungeons and demand to know what was going on. Or he could not.

He could go to Dumbledore. Or he could sit in the tower all day.

He could get something to eat. Or he could starve.

He could do something to take his mind off his problems. Or he could do nothing.

He really didn't care what he did, he just knew that he couldn't sit on the same couch for all eternity.

Harry walked morbidly up to his room, and without really realizing what he was doing, he grabbed his firebolt and went to the Quidditch pitch. He didn't realize what he had done until he was standing in the middle of the field and about to mount his broom. This would work, Harry decided. He would fly--it always helped to clear his mind, and it was quite refreshing.

Harry really didn't care that it was very windy out--no condition for flying. He didn't even notice when it began to rain, and he noticed that he was soaking wet only an hour later. But he didn't care. His mind just wasn't working right now.

Harry flew in circles around the pitch; he never altered his course or changed speed or moved his eyes from staring directly in front of him. Therefore, he didn't notice when Madame Hooch came onto the field, yelling frantically for him to come down this instant--he couldn't even hear her over the sound of the storm.

The storm. It suddenly picked up in intensity, and a gust of wind finally threw him off his unaltering course. Suddenly, Harry was jerked back to reality. He tried to regain control of his broom, but it was impossible by now--the storm had total control. Harry was thrown off a moment later, and came crashing to the ground. He hit with a sickening thud.

Harry's mind, still not working at its best, wondered if his broom had survived...probably not, he realized. By now, the Whomping Willow had it. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Madame Hooch running to him, her eyes wide, calling to someone he couldn't quite see...

* * *

Wouldn't you hate me if I left you there? I thought so.

* * *

Severus ran to Madame Hooch's side, not wanting to believe that it had been Harry he had seen fall just now. He had tried to say a spell that would halt Harry's fall, but it hadn't worked. Instead, Harry had hit the ground full-force, and now he was laying on the ground in an awkward position.

_Please,_ he begged, _Don't be hurt too badly. Don't...don't die, Harry._ Severus didn't even want to admit to the possibility of Harry's death, but even magic couldn't fix a broken neck. He had fallen a long way...

Harry looked deathly pale, and though Severus had seen many wounds in his life, he didn't have enough experience to know if Harry would be alright. He helped Hooch levitate him to the infirmary, yelling for Pomfrey as soon as he entered the room. Harry had been flying for longer than he knew, and Pomfrey was nearly in bed when Severus showed up. If Severus hadn't been so worried, he would have been amused by the pink polka-dotted pajamas and childish night cap.

"Why, in God's name, are you disturbing me at this hour, Severus?" she demanded. Then, immediately, "What happened to him? Explain everything."

"Which question would you like me to answer first, Pomfrey?" he asked sarcastically, since he had no good answer in the first place.

Not a second later, Severus was shoved unceremoniously out of the hospital ward, forced to wait like a student outside the door. Severus was not happy with this. Hooch had been sent to find Dumbledore, who would probably rush right here, so Severus had nothing to do until the Headmaster arrived.

Severus was limited to pacing outside the door, worrying about how Harry was faring--he hadn't looked good. Dumbledore arrived a few moments later, flushed and wearing the most horrid magenta sleeping robes with fills that Severus had ever seen--actually, they were the _only_ robes of that kind that Severus had ever seen, and he was quite grateful for that fact. They were hideous. The only thing that kept Severus from laughing at this sight (he had had a hard night--he was mentally unstable, and he couldn't blame himself for almost laughing) was the worried gleam in the Headmaster's eyes that had replaced the usual twinkle of amusement.

"What happened, Severus?" asked Dumbledore. Severus knew it was more a command, though, than a question. He began explaining as much as he could--but there was a problem. He couldn't explain anything without giving himself and Harry away...time to put all that training as a spy to work.

"Albus, I do not know the exact details, but I will relay to you what I have seen and what I have guessed. I assume that Potter knew of the Dark Lord's summons--I have heard about the connection of the scar, and can only assume that it works in a way similar to the Dark Mark." Severus decided to keep this simple and as close to the truth as he could. "He was probably contemplating what was going on, and wondering if he would receive any of his so-called 'visions' tonight; maybe he had already had some horrifying visions while he slept. He probably went out to the Quidditch Pitch to take his mind of things--of course, being the "Boy Who Lived" has obviously clouded his brain. Only an idiot would think he could fly through this storm and not be hurt, and being the Golden Boy, he probably won't get in trouble for flying after hours."

Severus figured that the added sarcasm was partially an act and partially true. He also figured he was doing it to hide from himself how he was really feeling right now, though he wasn't going to admit that, to Dumbledore least of all. Anyways, the story had been very close to the truth--he just decided to omit that he and Harry had been together when Severus had been summoned, because that would lead to questions as to why they had been together. Severus figured that Harry had been worrying why Severus was needed and what things he would be doing--or something like that.

Time to wrap the story up and hope that it worked. At least this part was entirely truthful. "I had returned from the meeting earlier. I was coming to report to you when I saw Hooch running out to the field; on closer inspection, I saw Potter flying and ran to her aid. We levitated him up here, and now he's in there with Pomfrey." Severus decided not to comment on how Harry had looked, as he didn't think he could say anything without betraying his emotions. He had already had to hide his voice cracking with a cough once, and he didn't feel like trying to make excuses for why he broke down in the middle of the hallway and cried.

Dumbledore smiled a sad smile, knowing the subject that Severus was avoiding. He rested a hand on Severus's shoulder, and though Severus didn't like it, he also didn't shrug it off. "Harry will be alright," he said, giving a gentle squeeze. Severus felt this was far too personal and far to discomforting, so he decided to dispel any thoughts the Headmaster might have.

"I only care for Potter's welfare because I do not want to see the hard work I have invested in spying on the Dark Lord wasted because he decided to kill himself while flying; I'm sure the Evil Git'd have a field day when he found out."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, slightly chiding, "I am pretty sure that would at least be useful--but of course, it was impossible to find out anything at all from Dumbledore.

At that moment, Pomfrey came out of the Infirmary, shutting the door quietly behind her. She glared at Severus when he began bombarding her with questions, and he hushed up immediately.

"Harry's condition has been stabilized, and he will survive, thank goodness. I didn't know for a moment. He has suffered..." Severus breathed a sigh of relief and tuned the rest of it out, though he heard something about frostbite, broken bones and lack of food. He really didn't care, as long as Harry lived. He didn't feel like questioning why he was so relieved, but he was.

There was one thing that bothered him, though. Why had Harry been so upset? It was obvious that something had been bothering Harry--his eyes had been swollen, as if he was crying earlier, and though Harry could be stupid, Severus knew he wasn't that stupid. He knew better than to fly so recklessly. He knew Severus would be back, so he obviously wasn't worrying over his Potions Master (or so Severus told himself), so what had made him so upset?

After a talk with Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey told Severus that there was nothing more he would be able to do for Harry (she said this with a smile on her lips, as if making fun of him for caring, and he glared at her for her impudence), and he should return to his rooms. Deciding that it would be for the best, Severus obeyed his orders. He needed sleep desperately--between the Death Eater's meeting and the latest events, Severus was worn out--and he could mull over the events later. There was nothing he could do for Harry...and if he stayed around, Pomfrey might start getting ideas about the stingy Potions Professor going soft.

Severus nearly collapsed in one of the arm chairs. Thoughts of Harry came forcefully when he saw the couch, but he didn't want to think of Harry's condition and the sinful act he had committed, so he pulled his gaze away and looked around the room. It seemed that Harry hadn't touched anything while he was away--he admitted, he had been skeptical to leaving Harry in his rooms alone, but he had had no other choice, so he had been forced to trust the boy.

Everything was in order...except, he realized suddenly, one thing. His photo album. It was sitting in front of the armchair across from him, instead of under it, and it was open. Harry had been looking through it...and by the page it was opened to and the obvious hurriedness at which it had been flung down, Severus could guess at what Harry had seen and what had disturbed him so much as to fly in these risky conditions.

He had meant to tell Harry--soon. When the time was right. He just had to work up the courage and figure out what he was going to say...but now...now Harry knew. Harry had seen, and he hadn't had anyone to explain.

Severus had the dreadful premonition that he was completely and utterly screwed.

* * *

A/N: Wow! Now I have everything (and I mean everything--I hope) planned out, I know what to write in my chapters, and I'm not floundering around in searching for the plotline...if it could be called a plotline. Still, don't expect fast chapters. Please. School is tough(er than usual). Therefore, it takes me longer to write a page than usual...please don't hurt me. But hey--that's okay, right? We're just here for the Sev/Harry action. At least, I am.

Johnny: That's the only reason you read or write any fanfiction. You just want the sex scene.

Me: Not true! I like the plot lines...

Johnny: When they're there.

Me: Oh shush. You're just jealous because I never write any sinfully delicious fanfiction about you. Please review, everyone. Let me know what you want to happen--I'll see if I can somehow work it in. I love your reviews! Mwah!


	13. Hospital

Hello, my beauties! And how are we this fine morning? Just to let you know, I don't own Harry Potter, the characters or anything else except the Sairlains. They're mine, sadly enough.

Johnny: Very sadly. They keep me up at night with all their hissing. Now, on with the story already.

**AND SORRY!** I really, really, REALLY should have updated sooner. If you all hate me and have left this story, I fully understand. Forgiveth me!

**WARNING:** explicitly described scene ahead. Not for the weak of spirit. It's not sex (well...not Snarry sex), but it's definitely not pretty. This chapter would be rated R if I were still doing ratings for each chapter, but since I'm not, I hope you can figure that out for yourself.

A/N: I am sorry if the facts in this story do not completely coincide with the canon in the books; I needed story to go a certain way, and I cannot be blamed for little tweaks to the storyline. Please do not point out if I got a year or some other inconsequential fact wrong, as I know there must be some discrepancies. Just know that I acknowledge and apologize for them. Also, thanks to my reviewers! I love you guys!

**There will be no review thanks for now, due to not enough time or space to write them. However, please know that it is your reviews that keep me going—and without them, I would be lost. This chapter, therefore, is dedicated to all my reviewers—I love you all. Now—on with the chapter!!! Yay!**

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Severus rushed up to the Infirmary. He no longer felt like obeying Pomfrey's instructions--right now, he wanted to be there for Harry. He wanted to be there when Harry woke up--no matter the consequences. On later reflection, he realized that this was a stupid idea; he should have let Harry adjust to the information, then come back to him, explain and ask for forgiveness. However, Severus wasn't in his right mind, and he ignored that pesky idea in the back of his head. 

Rushing to Harry's side was more for his own comfort than anyone else's, he realized. He wanted to make sure Harry would be all right--it was his fault that the boy was hurt in the first place, and he didn't want that.

There were a million thoughts rushing through his head, though they generally centered around one idea--Harry. How Harry had felt, what he had thought, if he was okay, how Severus could help him. He tried planning out what he would say about James, but it wasn't working in his head right now. He needed to calm down.

Once in the Infirmary, Severus grabbed one of the calming draughts and downed it quickly. He then sneaked past Pomfrey (who was finally finishing getting ready for bed) and sat down in a chair adjacent to Harry's bed. Severus figured that Pomfrey would have a monitoring charm on Harry that would alert her if Harry's condition changed, so Severus quietly whispered "Finite Incantum." She would never know the difference, and he was here to watch Harry for the moment. If Harry became too much for him to handle alone, he could always call her in. Severus whispered a silencing charm as well, just to be safe. If Harry did actually wake up tonight (which was doubtful), and his first reaction was to yell (even more doubtful, if Severus knew anything about Harry), Severus didn't want to alert Pomfrey to what was being discussed. That wouldn't be a good idea under any circumstances.

The calming draught took effect, and Severus's head instantly quieted down. His worry over Harry diminished (though it was still prominent in his mind), but he finally felt that he could rationally think through the situation.

First, Severus thought about what he believed had happened. Most likely, Harry had somehow found the photo album by chance instead of snooping through his things. He had probably sat down to look through it, then come across the photos of him and James--he had obviously found the one of them kissing. Severus momentarily felt grief-stricken before the calming draught calmed him down again. Severus figured that it would be best if he didn't dwell on that picture or the lack of pictures following--he didn't want to remember that day at all, especially not right now.

Following that, Harry had probably fled the room, though Severus guessed that he didn't go straight to flying. No, some time had probably passed, and then Harry had decided he needed to do something, so he went out to the Quidditch pitch to fly until he was numb. Severus momentarily wondered what had happened to the broom, but brushed away the thought. It was probably destroyed by now, and there was no use looking for it.

Severus was suddenly surprised at his thoughts. Why would he want to look for the broom? It wasn't as if he cared if the broom had been destroyed...but then, Severus realized, he did care. Because, if the broom was destroyed, it would only be one more thing Harry would hold against him. Severus vaguely remembered that the broom had been a present from his godfather, who was dead (thank goodness)--but it probably had sentimental value (though Severus couldn't fathom the reason why anyone would actually like Sirius). Harry wouldn't be happy that it was destroyed. The idea that Severus cared scared himself.

Severus tried to think about what he would say about James. For god's sake--how would it look? Harry's father, and now Harry. It seemed like he was a sick puppy dog or something along those lines. However, Severus couldn't think about what he would say for the life of him. He had no idea how Harry would react when he woke. He worried about it for a long time, well into the little hours of the morning, before he fell into a restless doze.

He woke almost instantly from the doze, but he realized what it meant. He was exhausted, and the worrying was wearing him out even more. Though he could probably stay awake for the rest of the night, he needed to take precautions. He placed a simple charm on Harry, similar to the one Pomfrey had used earlier, that would wake him if anything concerning Harry changed. Severus then felt safe that if he did happen to doze off again, he would be safe from Madame Pomfrey's wrath at leaving a patient untended.

Severus was almost asleep once again--his eyes were closed and he was barely aware of his surroundings--when a sound buzzed in his ears. Severus awoke instantly and stood up to hover over Harry. The only problem was that Harry wasn't showing any signs of change. He looked perfectly fine...there was nothing wrong with him. Severus checked his pulse, listened to his breathing and even cast a charm that would recognize anything out of the ordinary, but nothing was wrong.

Severus recast the charm, just to be sure, then settled back in his chair. He was quite skeptical--what had set off the charm?--but there was nothing wrong with Harry that hadn't been wrong before. He closed his eyes, and a little while later he was fast asleep.

Harry stared at Severus for long minutes, a sad look on his face. Severus had come to see him...he had probably figured out why Harry was flying in such dangerous conditions by now, though he couldn't be sure.

Harry was hurt, and he was angry. Once he had gotten over the initial shock, which had taken quite a long time, he couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling of grief that he was suffering from currently. How could Severus not tell him? Was he just a substitute for his father--something to fill the void Severus felt? He wouldn't be used like that. He wouldn't allow it, he told himself angrily.

But...but Harry also wouldn't allow Severus to get away. Harry found that he didn't want to stop getting to know the man--no matter how badly Harry had been wronged. He would have to discuss this with Severus, but he didn't know how to bring up the subject. For all he knew, Severus didn't even know that Harry knew. Wow, this was confusing.

Harry felt the inevitable tug of sleep pulling him down into the blackness again, and he didn't fight it. He needed sleep, and there was no point in staying up and watching Severus sleep. However, Harry couldn't get the picture out of his head of the troubled look on his Potions Master's face--Severus was worried about something, Harry thought. He also looked angry, hurt and...sorry?

Harry shook the thought away as he succumbed to sleep. Severus would never be sorry about anything in his life, let alone about something dealing with Harry.

Severus was woken again a bit later, though it was still early in the morning--no one would be stirring for quite a while. This time, however, he realized what was wrong immediately. Harry was tossing and turning in his sleep, his face showing that he was suffering from a very bad dream.

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Severus was livid--hadn't Pomfrey given Harry a dreamless sleep potion earlier? Sure, it was a special potion, enabling Harry to wake up or move around as much as he liked (unlike many of the dreamless sleep potions, this one didn't actually induce sleep, only encouraged it and prevented dreams), but Harry shouldn't be having dreams of any sort right now! Severus _knew_ the potion wasn't ineffective, as he had brewed it himself just earlier that week. 

Severus muttered something about incompetent mediwitches not being able to use the right potions and went about trying to calm Harry down. He didn't want to wake Harry, as that would inevitably bring about a conversation that he wasn't ready to have, but he didn't want the boy to suffer. Severus tried running his hands gently over Harry's hands, rubbing them in soothing ways (well, as soothingly as the Professor could get), but Harry pulled his hands away and nearly fell off the bed in attempt to get away from Severus. For a moment, Severus thought he was awake and shying from the touch of the man who had kissed his father, but when he saw that Harry continued to dream, he knew it wasn't true--the hurt still remained, though

Severus desperately tried every method he could to calm Harry down, but it wasn't working. He was glad for the silencing charm, because soon after Harry had retreated to the far side of the bed, he started screaming. Severus couldn't understand most of the words coming out of Harry's mouth, but they sounded like anguished protests--what could be happening?

Severus decided that waking Harry was far better than leaving him asleep, so Severus reached across the bed again. He swiftly pulled Harry back to the middle of the bed before Harry could fall off in attempt to get away from the touch, and then he proceeded to shake Harry awake.

Harry opened his eyes after only a few shakes, and his eyes were filled with terror. Severus wasn't sure that the boy fully comprehended what was happening--something told Severus that Harry didn't even realize he was out of the dream for a few long moments, and he wasn't entirely sure that Harry recognized him.

Severus knew the moment Harry recognized him, because he suddenly reached for Severus's robes and clutched them tightly. Severus gently sat down on the bed and pulled Harry into his lap, unsure of how to comfort the frightened boy. He wasn't used to this whole comfort concept, and here he was doing it _again_ for Harry. He was starting to see a pattern emerging.

Severus whispered comforting words that made no sense at all, mostly trying to keep his voice calm. He pushed away the tight feeling in his chest and refused to recognize it as either worry, panic or a combination of the two. Instead of focusing on the feeling that was constricting his breathing, he focused on rubbing soothing circles in Harry's back and making his voice more soothing.

After ten minutes, Harry stopped shaking. Ten more minutes had passed before he had relaxed, and another ten before he felt he was able to speak. He tried to mention his thanks to Severus, but he had to clear his throat a few times before he could croak out his gratitude. Severus dismissed it with a wave, muttering something about it not being a problem.

They didn't speak for a few more minutes, but the silence wasn't exactly comforting. Both had questions reeling in their heads, but neither wanted to begin asking. Severus wanted to know what the dream was about and how Harry was feeling about Potter; Harry mainly wanted to know everything to do with his relationship and his father's relationship with Severus.

Severus was the first to speak, though it wasn't a question he desperately wanted to know the answer to--still, it had to be asked. "How are you feeling?" Harry knew the question was asking about his mental as well as physical stability, and it touched on more than one topic in the mental arena. There were so many things to consider--the vision, Severus, his battered body. But right now, Harry was content to be in Severus's arms, even if he was dreading the impending conversation.

"Much better. Thank you." Severus nodded, never ceasing the comforting circles he was rubbing on Harry's back. Harry was in an awkward position, he realized--he was on his side, pressed half against Severus's chest. One arm was underneath his body and the other was holding onto his robes, though he noticed that the grip was much more relaxed now. Severus shifted slightly, giving Harry the clue that it would be okay to move, and Harry took the clue.

Once they had settled down again, Harry was lying on his stomach, his head in Severus's lap and turned to the side. One arm was under his head, resting on Severus's thigh, and the other was still holding his robes, as if Harry was afraid that if he let go, Severus would leave. At the moment, Severus had no intentions of leaving, though he was sure that if he did, he could avoid some very uncomfortable questions.

Now that they were more comfortable and Severus was sure Harry wasn't going to break down again any second, Severus felt he could venture to more important topics. "Do you wish to talk about it?" There were two things that Severus could mean. First, the vision. Second, the photo. He was letting Harry decide which he wished to talk about first. Though he could take the proffered out and say that no, he didn't want to talk about it, he knew that it had to be discussed sooner or later. This way, they wouldn't be disturbed since it was so early. Harry decided to take the lesser of the two evils, as he saw it.

"It was a vision." Severus remained quiet, allowing Harry to gather his thoughts and remain calm. He couldn't help the question in his mind though, and Harry seemed to realize what he was thinking. "The dreamless sleep potions don't help them, since they're not dreams. They're real, and they're every bit as scary." Harry paused. "Actually, they're scareier, because I know that they're happening." Severus remembered his words with Albus earlier, and he was attempting to come to terms with the idea that the visions that Harry had weren't just rumors.

"What happened?" Severus asked, though he already had a good idea. Voldemort had been planning an attack on an ignorant and innocent muggle family as a reward for some of his favorite Death Eaters--Severus had used the excuse that Dumbledore would be expecting him back to get out of it.

"Voldemort was there, of course." Severus contained his flinch at the Dark Lord's name. Even though he knew it was stupid, he didn't like referring to his 'Master' by the name the man had given himself. "He has to be, for me to see anything. He laughed...he was enjoying their pain. I think Lucius was there." Severus nodded; he had known that Malfoy would be attending. "I didn't recognize anyone else." Severus didn't expect him to, though he could give a good guess at who had been there.

"It was..." Harry continued, his voice barely audible, "It was horrible. The family didn't even know what was happening until it was too late, not that they would have been able to do anything. There had to have been ten or more of them, and only five present in the family...I think their father must have been out for the night." Severus increased the pressure on Harry's back; he knew that he didn't need to hear Harry's story to know what had happened generally, but Harry needed to get this out of his system.

"There was the mother, two daughters--both fairly old--and three sons--middle aged twins and a young boy." Harry took a deep breath. "They were all raped, young boys included, brutally. Magic was cast in...painful and harmful ways. I bet you can guess the spells and methods used." Severus nodded and allowed Harry to continue. For a brief moment, he wondered how Harry would see him nod, but the thought was brief and unimportant. As long as he was comforting and Harry was continuing, it didn't really matter.

Harry's voice grew even quieter, and Severus had to strain to hear it. "Voldemort killed all of them. First he Crucioed them for long moments--the younger the longer it went on, evil man. Then he cast a spell that set them on fire. They were alive...the smell was horrible. The sound was worse. It wasn't even their screams that were the scariest--it was his laugh. One of the Death Eaters cast a spell so that he wouldn't be able to burn and raped the oldest girl as she died...I think Voldemort promised him 'great rewards' later that night." Severus knew who would be in the Dark Lord's bed tonight, that was for sure. He wasn't sure if Harry understood the implications of what had been said, though Severus realized that no matter what the reward was, Harry was upset about it.

Severus abandoned the circles he was rubbing in Harry's back and pulled him up into a warm embrace. He hadn't been aware of doing it until it was done, and then he realized something. Harry brought out a side of himself that he hadn't used in a long time--the side of him that cared. He had subconsciously recognized earlier that he tended to be 'weaker' and more feeling when he was around Harry, but he hadn't acknowledged it until now. Harry made him caring again--something he hadn't been in so long.

Severus noticed that it wasn't just around Harry, either, now that he realized what was happening. He had been nicer in classes lately, and slower to snap at one of his fellow Professors when he didn't want to talk. Actually, the not talking was habit now--he realized that he had joined into conversations with other Professors without protests lately (though he had to be invited into the conversation first--he wasn't going to initiate a conversation anytime soon). Severus held Harry tighter. He had thought that part of him had been lost with the last Potter.

Speaking of Potter...Severus knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the conversation, though he still winced when it was brought up. After their hug had ended and Harry was feeling adequately comforted, he decided to bring up the topic of his father. Harry sat back, though he was still straddling Severus's legs, and withdrew his hands from where Severus had been holding them. This caused Severus to look Harry in the eyes, and he could tell that the time had come to talk about more important matters. Harry realized that Severus knew what Harry was going to talk about, which saved him from a potentially embarrassing moment.

Harry's voice came out as whisper, though he managed to keep his voice from cracking. "I can't seem to decide which question is more important--why my father, or why me?"

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again and looked deep into Harry's emerald eyes. "First, I want to apologize. I should have told you much sooner; I hadn't meant for you to find out this way. It's just--we never had much time together, and I never wanted to ruin the few moments spent with you with a conversation about the last person I loved." Harry was stunned...loved? Severus had loved his father? Something about the way he had said it also implied that Severus loved Harry, though he wasn't about to distract Severus. He would save that bit of information to mull over later--he wasn't even sure that Severus had mean for it to sound like that, or realized what he had alluded to.

"May I explain from the beginning? Maybe you will have a better understanding, and then I can move on to...answer your questions." Harry nodded, and Severus began his story.

"I am sure you have heard about the incident concerning myself, Lupin and Sirius in the fifth year, and I'm sure you know that it was your father who saved my life." Harry nodded. "I will spare you all of the details, but after he saved my life, I found it increasingly hard to hate him as I had before. I couldn't imagine anyone risking his life for someone he considered his enemy. It was quite overwhelming for me. I don't really remember how it came about, but somehow, we ended up in a classroom together a short time afterwards. Nothing happened sexually that first time, but we did talk quite a bit. We continued to meet--always in private, so that no one would know, and we kept up the show of hating each other publicly. I'm not sure why we just didn't stop seeming to hate each other around other people, but that was the way it went."

"By the end of the year, I had a small crush on him, which grew over the summer. We owled each other to keep in touch, but it wasn't the same as talking face to face. I missed him, and my feelings grew. By the end of the summer, I had convinced myself that it would be best to tell James how I felt."

"I was surprised to find out he had been having similar feelings. We decided it was best to keep up our cover of hating each other, though I could no longer bring myself to throw insults at him in public. I settled for insulting his friends and seeming to insult everyone else, and I always apologized for saying mean things about his friends later; usually, he told me that his friends had deserved it. For his part, he always let his friends insult me instead, and he actually paid me a couple compliments while seeming to make them insults. It was quite amusing to discuss later."

"Our relationship didn't progress quickly, to say the least. We were content to just talk, ironic as it may seem. The problem was, we never talked about the important things. It was always Quidditch or music or books or homework--we often did our homework together, since the time we always talked was when everyone else was studying. Neither of us wanted to stay up late at night to work to make up for spending time together, and after a couple weeks we had less and less to discuss. It seemed natural to do homework together after that. Still, we never discussed either of our pasts or futures. We just wanted to ignore them, though we found that was impossible. Our lifestyles were radically different. Still, I managed to fall in love with him. When I told him, we kissed." Severus plucked at the bed sheets nervously, looking anywhere but Harry's eyes. This had to be hard on him.

"Our first kiss was also our last," Severus said sadly. Up until now, he had kept his voice steady. Here, he had to pause to catch his breath and calm himself down. He hated thinking about this night, and generally shoved it to the back of his mind so that he didn't have to deal with it. Harry was curious, but he remained silent. He didn't want to stop Severus from talking, and he was afraid that if he voiced his opinion, Severus was clam up. "That night, he found out I bore the dark mark." Severus had been avoiding Harry's eyes until now, when he looked into them once again. What he saw surprised him--instead of the disgusted and scared look James had worn, Harry's eyes were filled with compassion and understanding. Severus quickly looked away again.

"Our lack of conversation on more important things had its consequences; James didn't even let me begin to understand. He didn't want to know why or how, or what the circumstances had been." Harry decided to ask these questions, but not right now; he would not be distracted from the main topic of conversation. "He stormed out of the classroom we had been meeting in. The next day, he was back to taunting me as he had the year before, except that this time, the comments hurt more. He knew what would bother me and what wouldn't. He knew that the comments hurt coming from him more than anyone else. He knew that I loved him." Severus paused. "I became a spy soon after, though James still didn't forgive me. He could never forgive me for lying to him, even though it hurt me to do so and I had apologized many times. I attempted to talk to him for a long time afterwards, but by the seventh year, I had given up. He wasn't going to accept me."

Harry moved for the first time in long minutes. He reached out with and held one of Severus's hands in one of his own. He squeezed gently, but left it at that. He wouldn't break the silence; he just wanted Severus to know he was there. Severus looked back at Harry once again and smiled weakly.

"To answer your questions...I did love James. I know it's stupid--I was young, and there was no way I could have known that I was in love at that time in my life, but I did. I shouldn't have fallen in love so young, but I did. I chose him because he saved the life of someone he should have let die, for more reason that childhood rivalry. I didn't deserve to live, even then. Still, James saved me, and that drew me to him." Severus took a deep breath. Now for the hard part.

"You...you were a bit different. You didn't save my life physically...but I feel that you have saved me mentally, in a way. I know it does not make sense, but it is true. You actually got to know me, even if it was unintentional at first. You knew I was a bad person, yet you still accepted me. Sure, by that time you knew I was a spy, but I had treated you so badly years before that it shouldn't have mattered."

"I'm not sure why I treated you badly. I think it was partly because you were Lily's child, and though it would have been impossible for me to have a child with James, I had wished I was his lover instead of her. It was partly because how he had treated me after he found out--by that time, I had developed a shell around myself concerning him, and had convinced myself that I hated him, though I knew I didn't deep down. Your godfather and his lover had a little to do with it. And then...you looked so much like James. It hurt, seeing you mature into the person he had been."

"I'm sure you've realized now that James was also in his sixth year when I had fallen for him, as you are now. I believe that had to do with my attraction to you at first, though I can't be sure. Now I know that I don't have feelings for you because of your resemblance to your father physical, but because of how different you are to him mentally. You, unlike he, have accepted me. You listened. I am sure that if James were in the position you are now, he would never have listened to my explanations. He would have stormed out and never spoken to me again--frankly, I must say that I am surprised you didn't do just that. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."

Harry, realizing that Severus was finished, smiled. "Thank you, Severus." He leaned in for a chaste kiss. "I appreciate you telling me."

"I have a request, Harry." Harry nodded, figuring it had something to do with what had happened between them. He would accept, whatever it was. "Could you get off my legs? You're cutting off their circulation." Harry blushed; he hadn't thought about that when he had sat down on them. Harry moved to Severus's side and pulled himself up to a position where he could lay his head on Severus's chest. They sat like that for long minutes, Severus's arms wrapped around Harry and Harry contentedly dozing. Life was much better now.

Severus glanced at the clock; it was time to go. They had talked much longer than he had anticipated, and the castle would be stirring. Pomfrey would soon realize that her charm on Harry was no longer active and rush in here, and that would be an awkward moment.

Harry realized that Severus needed to go when he shifted under Harry's weight and sat up. They didn't say a word--it wasn't needed. Harry pulled Severus into one last kiss, which was slow and intimate, before letting go. Severus stood and turned around, ready to leave.

That would be when he saw Ron, staring at them, his mouth wide open in shock. Shit. Well, so much for life being better.

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A/N: Okay, do you hate me for the cliff? I would if I were you. But you should actually be thanking me--look at how long this chapter is! I totally hadn't meant to make it that long; Severus just likes to talk. 

Severus: I do not! I was merely trying to explain to Harry--

Johnny: Oh, shut up. You like to talk, you just never do. Just because you're blunt and use as few words as possible to express how you're feeling does not mean that you don't like to talk. And stop grumbling--it's quite annoying.

Severus: I'll stop grumbling if the readers review. I'm sure they don't believe I just 'like to talk.' They understand that I was merely expressing what needed to be said--and I am sure they will tell you so when they review. So there.


	14. Glass half full

Guess what? I'm back! dodges flying fruit Heheh. Yeah. Sorry. It's been awhile—I'm just so busy lately, and I couldn't do anything. And guess what? This isn't even half of what I meant it to be. I'm so sorry! I just needed to get something up here before you all ran away from my story.

Johnny: I will PAY someone to flee. And take me with you!

Me: Liar. Admit it—you like working for me. On the money note, if anyone is wondering if I make money off this story, I am not. I do not own Harry Potter in any way and am in no way do I have any income from these stories. I'm broke, remember? Actually, if you have a large sum of money and would like to buy the contract of Johnny's services, let me know. We'll discuss something.

This is my Christmas present to you…though Christmas & this story don't coincide exactly, I did need to give you _something _good, right? Go to my livejournal (under the penname: abinikai; there should be a link on my profile as well) to see review thanks for the past two chapters. I love you all—Merry Christmas! **Go see the E-card I've sent all of you! Go to my livejournal for a link.**

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"Ron!" shouted Harry. "Wait!" Ron flew out of the room without looking back.

Severus suddenly remembered Dumbledore saying something about contacting Harry's friends; he could only assume that Weasley had come out of concern for his friend. Damn his timing! And worse, Granger would probably be on her way.

Harry turned to Severus. Fear was etched on his face, and Severus couldn't help but worry. "I think it would best if you leave right now. We'll discuss this later. For now, I think I need to convince Madame Pomfrey that I am alright so that I can go find Ron."

Severus nodded. He wanted to kill the Weasley for ruining the mood, but he knew that was impossible. This was not looking good. He couldn't quell the feeling of regret and fear that rose in him--what if Weasley told? What would he think? Would their relationship continue? Would Harry crumble under the criticism of his friends and the rest of the world, or would he hold true to whatever feelings he might have?

Severus smashed down all of the fearful thoughts in his head. He would go down to his lab and let Harry sort this out as best he could. Severus figured that the best way to get his mind of the impending problems was to do something that had crossed his mind earlier. Right now, he would research making a potion to help Harry with his visions; maybe he could find a temporary cure that could help. Looking up a cure for one of Harry's problems would be a much better alternative to brooding over another one of Harry's problems he had caused.

As for Harry, he was terrified. He knew Ron was slightly homophobic, though he had been forced to get over most of that fear when he had discovered Charlie and the twins' preferences. Ron still didn't like it, though, and the fact that he had just seen Harry (whom he had thought to be straight) and his most hated Professor (a person whose love life he didn't want to know in the first place) kissing was not good (not that Ron thought his Professor had a love life in the first place). Harry wasn't sure how much he had seen, either--he could have seen much more, though Harry doubted it somehow.

Harry needed to find Pomfrey and get out. As soon as Severus was gone, he took down the silencing charm he knew Severus had put up and yelled for the woman, who came rushing to his side immediately. He quickly explained that he was fine, but he needed to get out for an emergency. He wouldn't explain what the details of the emergency--just that he really needed to talk to Ron, and needed to go find him. Pomfrey thought Ron wasn't here; Harry said he hadn't been, but Dumbledore had probably sent for Ron when Harry had been hurt. Pomfrey didn't ask any more questions as to the nature of the emergency, for which Harry was thankful for, but rather finished her check over. Harry suspected she knew more than he thought she did, but he didn't have the time to find out what that was, exactly. When she announced that Harry was fine, though he would be a bit sore for a few days, Harry practically ran out of the room. He didn't even change out of his hospital gown.

He had no idea which way Ron had run, though he decided to check the most obvious places. First, Gryffindor tower. Then the Quidditch Pitch, and then the kitchens (Ron tended to eat when distressed). Harry was lucky--he had run straight to their dorm room.

"Ron?" asked Harry cautiously. He whispered 'lumos' and walked in, waving the light around. "Are you in here?" It was quite dark, but Harry could see the outline of most things. He walked slowly over to Ron's bed, where the curtains were shut. "We need to talk about this, Ron. You need to know what's happened."

Suddenly Ron's face appeared out of the darkness. The curtains framed his head, and for a moment, Harry thought there was no body attached to it. "No, Harry!" shouted Ron--anger flashed in his eyes, accompanied by tears. "I don't want to talk with you."

"Ron, you need to know what I need to say."

"No. You _want_ me to know what you want to say." Ron closed the curtains again. When Harry tried to open them, he found they were sealed shut. He didn't want to risk his friend's anger even more by invading Ron's privacy. Things were bad enough as it was--hopefully, Hermione would help; she should be here soon, if Ron was. For now, he needed to talk to Severus.

Harry ran down to the dungeons and burst into the Potions classroom. He didn't see Severus anywhere, so he banged on the door that led to the private chambers. The door was opened a few moments later.

"Harry?" questioned Severus in a voice Harry found all to calm for the situation. Harry didn't say a word; instead, he just stormed in and sat on one side of the couch.

"We need to talk, Sev."

"I know. How is Weasley?"

"Angry. He won't speak to me." Tears were threatening to fall, but Harry pushed them back.

"Granger?" Severus sad on the other side of the couch.

"Not here yet."

"What will you tell her?" Severus dreaded this answer.

"The truth. And I hope she'll understand--at least she's more inclined to reason than Ron is. Maybe she'll accept it and talk to Ron." Severus nodded. "What do _you_ want to happen, Severus?" He hadn't expected that question.

"I want to continue this, if possible." This seemed to make Harry relax. "Just because your friends found out does not mean we have to stop. As they are your best friends, they should want to remain so. If they do not, then they do not deserve to be your friends in the first place." Harry's face paled. Obviously, he shouldn't have said that. He needed to make Harry feel better. "If worse comes to worse, we can obvliviate them." Oops. Harry's head dropped into his hands, and he started crying. That did not help.

Severus moved over to Harry and pulled him close. Their talk earlier, for some reason he couldn't fathom, had made him feel much closer and much more comfortable around Harry. It was a very strange feeling to move to comfort Harry and realize what he had done only after it had happened--and not regret or fear it, either. "There now--I doubt you will have to resort to either of the last situations. Hermione will understand and, in turn, bring Ron around."

"I can't lose them as friends, Severus," Harry choked. The tears were falling freely now. "They're the closest thing to family I've got." Severus made a mental note to check up on what this meant later. "Without them, I'm nothing."

"Harry," Severus said sternly. Time for a little pick-me-up. "Do not ever utter those words again. Your friends do not make you who you are; you do. That idiocy is only fit for someone as low as Malfoy, who really is nothing without his bodyguards."

"But they help. They define who I am," whispered Harry. Severus figured it would be best not to argue the point at the moment, and let it drop. But that would definitely come up again.

Instead of talking, Harry kept crying and Severus kept cradling. They sat in silence for an indefinite amount of time before Severus said anything. Harry had finally stopped crying, and he thought it would be safe to broach the subject. "Do you think Granger has arrived yet?" he asked quietly.

Harry nodded dumbly, numb to any feeling at the moment. "Probably. I should go talk to her. She's probably found Ron by now and will be storming around to find me. I'll be back with a verdict later."

Severus didn't like the glum, self-pitying words. "She will understand, Harry." He nodded again, but Severus didn't think he even heard the words. This could be bad.

* * *

It didn't take long to find Hermione--she was just coming down the stairs from the boy's dormitories in the Gryffindor Tower. "Harry," she greeted. Harry couldn't decide if she was happy or hurt. "I'm glad you're alright now." 

"I still hurt a little bit..." he started. Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Hermione just nodded. Harry looked down at his shoes and decided it was best to get on with things. Tears were threatening to fall again, and he wanted to get a few words out before he started bawling. "Hermione...I think I need to explain." Damn. His voice cracked. Still—he got farther than he had thought he would.

"Yes, you had best. How's Snape, first of all?"

Harry looked up in surprise—suddenly the near-tears were (almost) gone. "Wha--?" He shook his head. "That's not what I expected you to say. He's fine, though. Thanks for asking." He paused for a moment...Hermione was a smart girl. "What do you know, and since when?"

Hermione sighed and sat on a couch, gesturing for Harry to join her. "Aside from what Ron has told me, I know that you and Snape have been more civil towards each other. I know that you no longer insult him with us, and he refrains from saying anything _too_ scathing. I know that sometimes you stay a little longer at "torture" than usual, and you almost always come back with a dreamy, just-been-kissed look. If not just-been-kissed, it's just the dreamy look. Like you're really happy about something. And I know that you got a present for someone that none of us know about--I asked the shopkeeper at the trinket store you went into at Hogsmeade."

"Don't ever let anyone say you're not smart, Hermione." Harry placed a timid hand on her shoulder, and she brushed away the timidity by sweeping him into a hug.

"No one's been able to really make you smile lately, Harry. Except for him. When you come back from your meetings with him, it's always easier to make you smile and laugh. Anyone who can make you that happy, no matter how greasy, has my approval. Don't ever doubt that I won't support you—and did you _really_ think I would stop being your friend, even if we differed in opinions? That would be stupid of me—and you yourself just said I was smart."

"He's not really that greasy; the potions just make it shiny and clumped together."

Hermione giggled and swatted him playfully. "And you would know this...how?" she asked suggestively. He rolled his eyes and gave her another hug. "I just...I just wish you had told us sooner. Ron's pretty hurt...that, and totally disgusted."

"Why aren't you like he is, Hermione?"

"Because I'm your friend, and I'm not going to ditch you because I don't really like the person you're dating." Harry was hurt that she didn't like him and admitted to it, but he let her continue. Anyways, he was more hurt at the implications of what she said—was Ron not his friend? "I figure that if you really like him, he can't be all bad. The age is a bit weird, but wizards live a lot longer and it's not that uncommon to have a large age difference in the wizarding world. I'm not a recovering homophobe, like Ron is, and I really can see the difference in how you felt before and how you feel now. You're happy, Harry. That's all I care about. Now, why don't I go talk to Ron?"

Harry smiled at Hermione—he couldn't help it. She really was a great friend. Tears came to his eyes, and he wrapped her in a tight hug. "Thank you, Hermione. You and Ron mean the world to me, and I don't think I could go on without you two. Do you really think he'll come around?"

Hermione smiled sadly and wrapped her arms around Harry in return. "Honestly, Harry, I can't say. I hope he was, and I think he will, but a large part of my brain isn't sure. Still, I will do everything in my powers to change his mind—and if worse comes to worse, I just won't look at him. I'll give it a day after that, and he'll be craving a kiss so badly that he'll be willing to think about changing his mind, at the very least.

Well…though it wasn't as optimistic as Harry had hoped, it was a shit-load better than nothing—and seeing as nothing was what Harry had expected, this was pretty damn good. "I'll be with Severus while you bring him around. Just come down to the Potions classroom to find me. Thanks, 'Mione. You're the best."

"Alright, enough mushy-mushy. I'll be back as soon as I know what Ron says." Hermione gave a chaste kiss on Harry's head and walked up the boy's tower. Harry waited a few moments, staring pointlessly into the fire, then got up to go to Severus. Hermione wouldn't fail him, he knew. It would just take time.

In the dungeons, Harry found Severus waiting for him. Wasn't that sweet—Severus was actually _waiting_ for Harry's return. Alas, Harry's sentimental thoughts were soon crushed. "The potion I'm working on needed time to brew."

Harry sat down next to Severus on the couch. "You're making excuses, Sev. You're just worried about me, so you decided to wait out here for me. I bet you have a stalling spell on the potion so you can come back to it when your attentions can be fully focused on it. How sweet." A fleeting look of amusement and surprise at being caught darted across Severus's face, then disappeared. Maybe Harry knew him a bit too well…time to change the subject.

"How is Hermione? I assume it went well, seeing as you're not in tears." There—that should get him of topic.

"Nice job changing the subject, Sev." Damn. "Yes, things went well. I'm not quite sure whether or not she approves fully, but she supports it because it makes me happy. Well, that's the condensed, simplified version, at least—she used quite a bit more words, and more of them."

"I thought she might understand. Did she already know about it?" Harry nodded. "I assumed as much. She's a bright child—for a Gryffindor, of course."

"Yeah, we always thought she should be sorted into Ravenclaw—but I'm glad she's with Gryffindor. I don't know what I'd do without her, that's for sure. And she's definitely brave, going to talk to Ron in the state he's in right now." Severus grinned—he could just imagine. He quickly wiped the grin off his face though; it wouldn't do to have Harry see he was amused by Ron and Hermione's little tiff.

"Yeah, it's funny to think about, isn't it? I bet he's cowering right now; 'Mione's quite an imposing person when she's pissed, and she'll be pissed by now, from listening to all of Ron's stubbornness." Or maybe it _was_ okay. Maybe Harry wouldn't get offended every time Severus took amusement in one of his friends' predicaments. Maybe this relationship wouldn't be filled with stressful apologies for insults and the like. Severus was coming to like this relationship more and more as it progressed—not that that was much of a surprise, but it was still nice to know.

Snape pulled Harry into his arms and prepared himself to wait. It could be a long night—who knew how long it might take to convince Ron of his egregious mistake when it came to Harry. Ron wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, to say the least, and Severus wasn't so sure of his confidence in Hermione's abilities to convince Ron to change his mind. But Harry knew them better.

Around three that morning (and Severus had just began to doze—dammit), alarms went off in Severus's chambers, signaling Hermione's (and maybe Ron's) arrival in his classroom. Harry was just coming out of his deep sleep, blinking incomprehensively. Severus could pin down the second that Harry remembered the past events—the sudden look of fear and hope combined on his face were obvious.

"Harry—everything will be fine. Don't worry." Harry nodded, but not convincingly enough for Severus. He paused Harry before the door, bent down for a chaste, comforting kiss, then opened the door. If he was lucky, Harry would understand that no matter what, Severus would be there for him.

Hermione was in the classroom, but no Ron. She swept Harry into a hug after nodding courteously and warily at her Professor. "Well, he listened a little. He's not going to shun you completely, as his first plan was. And he said he'll attempt to try to have an open mind about your…"choice." His words were a bit stronger, though."

Harry nodded; this was about what he expected anyways. "You did the best you could, 'Mione. Thanks so much." The disappointment in his voice could not be hidden—but not for lack of trying.

"Harry, he'll come around, and you know it. Ron's just a little too stubborn for our own good. Soon enough you'll be best friends again. He said that he would come down later; right now, he's recovering and rethinking everything. I mentioned how happy you've been lately, et cetera, and after a bit of prodding, he seemed to grasp what I was trying to get across to him. He'll understand soon enough."

Harry forced a smile, no matter how weak it was. "'Mione, I love you. I really do." Severus's heart clenched at these words. He knew it was stupid—obviously, the love was a completely different love than the one expressed for himself—but he couldn't help it. He had yet to hear those words directed to himself, and he had all but said them to Harry. Severus forced his feelings down, telling himself that all good things come with patience, and Harry did feel that way—he just hadn't said it yet. He would.

It still hurt, though. The knowledge that someone else heard those words, and he still hadn't, wouldn't stop hurting no matter what he told himself.

* * *

While they were waiting, Harry and Hermione played some wizard's chess. Hermione was far superior to Harry, but he still enjoyed playing, and Hermione made sure to at least give Harry a chance. Severus was amused watching them. He used to love playing chess himself, but he rarely found the time to do it lately—not that anyone would play with him the first place, of course. He was never really social enough to approach or be approached to play a game as of late. It would be nice to polish his skills again, and Hermione seemed worthy enough a player to do so. 

After the third time Harry lost (miserably), Severus asked to play. Hermione couldn't hide her surprise—the large, round eyes gave it away, along with the slightly-open mouth. She had the look of a deer caught in Muggle lamplights—or something like that.

"Why—sure, Professor," she stuttered out after a moment.

"Ms. Granger, I would like you to call me 'Severus' when we are alone. It would not do to make things more uncomfortable. May I call you by your first name?" Hermione nodded slowly, as if afraid that if she spoke or moved her head too quickly, she might wake up to find she was in another dimension.

"Good. You can choose colors, if you prefer, or we can pick hands." Severus held two pawns of opposite colors behind his back, and Hermione picked the left hand: white. Severus preferred to be black anyways—for obvious reasons. He waved his wand and the board set itself. Hermione deliberated for a long time before making her first move; she had no way to judge how competent a player Severus was, so she wanted to be cautious. It wasn't really fair that Severus had been watched her play three games already—even if they were against Harry, who had to be the worst player on the face of the planet (minus those who had never learned to play) despite the regularity with which he played. No matter if they were against a terrible player, Severus still was able to watch her moves, and if he was half the person she suspected him to be, he had learned a lot from those three games.

And boy was she right. He beat her in less than five minutes—and he didn't seem to be even trying. Hermione looked up at her Professor, feeling much more comfortable around him suddenly, and smiled. "Good game. It's been a while I've had anyone good to play against that wasn't Ron, and I was never that great to begin with. If you want a real challenge, you should play him whenever he comes around. He would enjoy the game, at least—I think he's gotten bored playing against Harry and myself."

Hermione and Severus started another game, taking it much slower. Halfway through, Severus had already captured both of Hermione's Knights, one Rook and one Bishop, and she was retreating hastily with her Queen, trying to get it out of danger. It was then that the alarms went of for a second time. Harry knew who it would be, and after a glance to Hermione and Severus, both understanding a supportive, he went to face Ron alone.

The butterflies in his stomach were the size of pterodactyls.

Ron was standing uncertainly in the doorway to the classroom. He watched Harry come through the door to Severus's quarters, not moving. "Hi, Ron," Harry said with a weak grin. "How are you?"

"Well, I _was_ fine. Now I'm not quite sure."

Harry nodded sadly. "I understand."

"Harry, I'm not going to quit being your friend—you're my best mate, after all. But I can't say I approve, and I can't bloody say I'll be able to contain myself whenever…_he's_ around." Wow—that was surprisingly thought out and understandable for Ron. And it was also quite level-headed. Hermione had probably said a similar thing during their argument, and Ron had spent the last couple hours rewording it.

Harry forced a smile. "I know. That's all I can ask, you know. So how was your break thus far?"

"It's been great," Ron said, glad for the change of subject. "Mum's just as controlling as always. Charlie's on a high horse from being promoted, and Dad's got this new toy he wants you to look at as soon as you can. He calls it a…'sell u lare,' I think."

Harry smiled, this one real. "I think you mean a cellular, Ron. It's like a phone, except more mobile, and it can usually do a lot more. Most people call it a cell phone." Ron smiled and nodded, but Harry could tell he didn't really understand. Oh well. "Would you like to come inside? Hermione and Severus are playing some wizard's chess."

Ron shook his head. "I'd better not. I'm not sure if he could stand my presence, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't stand his right now. But maybe later. I'll be in the tower if you need me. Let 'Mione know, will you?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't expected that Ron would come inside, but the reaction was better than he had thought. And he knew Severus would tolerate Ron as long as he possibly could. If Ron was open to the idea of trying later—who knew? This might not be as bad as it could be.

Harry turned and went back inside to see that Severus had beaten Hermione a second time and they were well into their third game, where Hermione was being crushed yet again. Her forehead was wrinkled in concentration, but she looked up when Harry came through the door and smiled. "It went well, didn't it?"

Harry sat next to Severus on the couch. "Yeah, it did. Thankfully. He's not ready to be around Severus, I don't think, but he's still my friend, and he's not yelling at me. That's improvement, at least. He's in the tower, later. You should probably go to him after this game—I think the reason he came down was because he was too lonely up there without you."

Hermione could take the hint; Harry really wanted to be alone with Severus. "Actually, I think this game is about done—Severus's pawn is about to checkmate me. I'll see you at lunch, Harry. I think breakfast is too soon to actually attend—I won't be awake when it's served, and if I know you, you won't, either. It seems you've had a tough couple days, anyways. Get some sleep. Goodnight, Severus."

Severus smiled. Hermione was a smart girl—she realized that Harry was probably going to spend what was left of the night (or morning—whatever) with him. He turned to Harry and smiled predatorily, then attacked Harry's lips with his own.

After many long, breathless minutes, Severus pulled away. "I've been wanting to do that since the first chess game you played, while you were chewing your lip ever-so-tauntingly."

Harry chuckled. "I can tell. Note to self: chew lip to frustrate Severus."

"Now, off to bed. I'm glad everything's turned out well, but all this waiting up has tired the both of us out, and we're both recovering from a trying couple days. You're recovering from a near-death experience, too. Pomfrey will have my head if you die of exhaustion after she spent so much time bringing you back from the grave."

"I'm only going if you're coming with me. I know what you go through with Voldemort, and you need the sleep almost more than I do. I was sleepy, but I saw that you had almost dozed off before Hermione got here—and you'd be one of the last people I would expect to come near that."

Severus grinned and followed Harry into the bedroom. Harry may not have said those three words yet, but he also wasn't running away because their relationship was found out. Things could be better, yes, but they could also be worse. If you asked Severus, his glass was definitely half-full.

* * *

A/N: Ugh. I wasn't really in the mood to write an angsty, hurt piece when I wrote this, if you hadn't noticed. It was supposed to have a much gloomier ending, first off. Second…it just wasn't sad enough. Forgive me--I tried my hardest. I might consider going back and rewriting it...hmm. You'll have to let me know what you think. Was it okay, or what? I live on your criticism--a big, chocolate-filled cookie to anyone who writes me more than "that was good" (though I still like those reviews)! Let me know what you want to see and what you want to happen and how you think I did. You people keep my glass half-full (and sometimes over-flowing), so to speak! 

Johnny: I don't know about that, but I agree with lots of pretty (non-flaming) criticism. At least then, she might get better.


	15. Perfect

Author's Note: Well, I couldn't find the Chapter Outline I made a while back, so I went ahead and made a new one. Therefore, the structure this story once had will be regained…if we're lucky. As to the egregious error I made with Percy's temporary resurrection…forgive me. It has now been changed to Charlie's promotion. To those of you who noticed: many kudos and many thanks. And to anyone who would like to beta for me (this being a great example)…well, email me. Please. There aren't any problems with grammar (if there are, I might die of shame), and there generally aren't those kinds of problems, but they do occur, and I always enjoy a second opinion.

Second, here's a note to **Sheth' Tora**; I'm not sure if s/he will visit my livejournal, so I just want to make sure this is said: Johnny is a way for me to talk about myself without over-using the word "I," something my mother warned against. In other words, he's there so I don't sound incredibly repetitive and conceded. I'm sorry if it annoys you. If you still have problems with it, I advise just skipping the entire first section. I rarely say anything worth reading, and if there is something important, it's usually made to stand out (bolded, italicized, capital letters, etc.). Thanks for reading and putting up with my strange habits.** The rest of my wonderful reviewers can find their responses on my livejournal ('abinikai'). There should be a link on my profile.**

Third, Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been, never will be. Not even in the New Year.

Fourth, the Dedication: **This chapter is dedicated to Adam.** May you always warm the hearts of those around you—without you, I would be lost. You've encouraged me and lent me a listening ear every time I needed it—even when I was talking (and am still talking) about Chris incessantly. Thank you for all you've done for me.

**Johnny and I have one more thing to say before we start the story: Happy New Year!

* * *

**

Harry woke up in a blissful daze. Severus had decided to stay in bed that day, instead of getting up and showering long before Harry was awake, like he usually did. Harry rolled over and snuggled closer to the warmth so close—only to realize that Severus was actually still asleep. Harry suppressed a chuckle—he didn't want to wake up Sleeping Beauty—and let his eyes drift close again. A few more minutes of rest wouldn't hurt.

An hour later, Severus finally opened his eyes—to find Harry was up before him. By the sound coming from the bathroom, he was showering. No, he just finished showering. That would be the sound of water shutting off. A few moments later, Harry walked out, towel wrapped around his waist.

"Morning, sleepy head. I thought you'd never wake up. Are you listening?" Severus nodded his head, not really paying attention—Harry's body was too pleasing a sight for him to divert much more of his attention elsewhere.

Severus got out of bed, strode over to Harry, and attacked his lips. Harry's body was slick with the water from the shower, and Severus could barely contain himself. Suddenly, Harry pulled back, a grimace on his face. Severus was shocked. Why would Harry pull away?

"When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" Oh—yeah. He needed to do that. But it could wait. "Wait, no—let me guess." Severus closed his eyes, hoping Harry wouldn't remember. "Well, while I was in the hospital, you were probably too preoccupied to remember them. When I was talking to Hermione, you were brewing a potion, so I know you didn't remember—you get too absorbed in whatever you're making. You didn't brush them last night…and you obviously didn't brush them while with Voldemort…so sometime before that. Wonderful. That means you haven't showered, either. Go. Now." So much for that plan, and so much for waiting.

Severus did his best to hide the blush that was creeping up his cheeks, giving away his embarrassment. He decided the best course of action would be to walk into the bathroom without saying a word—and that was exactly what he did.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus walked out, fully dressed. He had decided to torture Harry for the torture he had been put through.

So much for that plan, too. There Harry was, lying on his bed, wearing only Muggle jeans and boxers. Well…maybe he could get back at Harry. That might work. Severus, without saying a word, walked to Harry and laid down on top of him. He kissed Harry slowly, wrapping his hands in Harry's still-wet hair. When he could tell Harry was aroused (the object poking into his stomach was a dead give-away), he pulled away.

"It's breakfast; people are going to be expecting us in the Great Hall soon." The look on Harry's face was priceless. Now, the only thing he had left to do was get rid of his own little problem. What's the nastiest thought he could come up with. McGonnagal. Nope, that wasn't working. McGonnagal in lacy-red undergarments. Almost. McGonnagal in her former attire with Dumbledore. Yup, there it went.

"That was mean," Harry finally said, once the disbelief had passed enough for him to regain his speech. It had taken quite a while.

"See you at breakfast, Harry."

* * *

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully considering the circumstances, including the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and Ron was still a bit jumpy around Harry (not to mention Severus). Hermione and Severus played another game of chess, which Severus won easily—though Hermione was becoming more adept in her defenses, Severus was extremely resourceful—he never had problems checkmating her.

Harry went to sleep that night in his own dorm, no matter how much he wanted to sleep in the same bed as Severus. He didn't want to estrange Ron too much, though—but if it hadn't been for Sev, Harry never would have made it out the door, and Ron would still be sleeping in the dorm room alone.

The next morning, Harry woke up to Ron shaking him. "Harry, Mate, wake up. You should see the presents!" Of course, that was how every Christmas had been for six years now—and Harry rejoiced in its familiarity.

"I'll be right there, Ron." Harry put his glasses on and glanced at the box on his bed stand. He and Severus had decided to exchange presents together later that afternoon, instead of sending them to each other. He couldn't wait.

Harry was so happy that Ron and Hermione were both in the dorms; he had never spent Christmas with them, and it was an experience. They brought all their presents into Ron and Harry's room (seeing as they couldn't go to Hermione's room—damn those stairs), and opened them in turns. It was the best experience Harry had ever had—it had such a family atmosphere. He didn't care about the presents (though the book on becoming an Auror was really nice); the feeling of being with his two best friends was more than enough.

Halfway through opening presents, Hermione found a small, unadorned present with no indication of whom it was from. Ron received a similar one, she saw out of the corner of her eye, but she was too intrigued with her own that she didn't pay much attention. Upon opening it, she found a potion and a note.

_Ms. Granger,_

_I must thank you for the support you have shown Harry. I try to do my best, but there are things that I cannot accomplish that a best friend can. Harry needs you and Mr. Weasley more than any of us could imagine, I believe. I hope you accept this small token of gratitude. And please—do not allow Mr. Weasley to blanch too much at the thought of receiving a present from the "Greasy Old Git."_

Merry Christmas,  
S. Snape

PS—please make sure Mr. Weasley uses his potion with due responsibility.

Hermione stared at the vial she held in awe—Severus must have spent a long time making this potion at the last minute, just for her. And there was one for Ron, too! Harry was trying to read the note over her shoulder, complaining that they were no fun when they didn't speak, so she handed her note to him and concentrated on the potion.

It was a reddish color, of normal consistency. It gave a soft glow, and Hermione could only wonder at how difficult it must have been to make—she had no idea what it was, and even she admitted that such occurrences were rare. So, to find out, she read the tag, which was written in the neat, condensed writing of the Potions Master—she recognized it from the comments he always wrote on her papers.

_One Wish Potion. Potion will grant any one wish to drinker, within limits. Limits mainly include the alteration of another being, i.e., death, love, free will, etc. See _Porter's Potions for the Desperate, Volume III _for further limitations and any after-affects. Use wisely._

Wow. Severus had taken the time out to make such a complicated potion, just because she was Harry's friend. She had read about it in passing, and had decided to come back to it later and study it more, but she never had the time. Now she would make time.

Ron and Harry seemed to be equally amazed, though a look of fear was a close second on Ron's face. "You sure it's not poisonous?" he asked. Harry looked hurt, and Hermione smacked him.

"Of course not, dimwit. Severus cares about Harry, and he would never do anything to hurt him. That includes hurting his friends, you inconsiderate prick. Try thinking next time, before you open you extraordinarily large mouth." Ron, at least, had the grace to look ashamed. Harry shot Hermione a grateful look, and they all went back to opening presents.

They went down to brunch an hour or so later, and Harry immediately looked for Severus. He discretely sat himself across the table from Severus and sent him a loving, grateful glance before starting a conversation with Dumbledore and filling his plate with food. It was going to be a good day. A very good day indeed.

* * *

Once Harry had said his Merry Christmas-es, he practically ran down to Severus's chambers. A little short of breath, he knocked on Severus's door. The door swung open before the second knock, and Harry found himself wrapped in a warm hug. He didn't say a thing—he just wrapped his arms around Severus in return. He had missed sleeping in their bed last night, too. But he knew better than to say anything about Severus's momentary weakness—that would only result in it never happening again.

A few seconds later, Harry was ushered inside Severus's chambers to find it actually decorated—of all things. It had red and green banners, a merrily-lit fire that seemed to emit Christmas Carols, and—of all things—a Christmas tree. Harry pounced on Severus and gave him the biggest hug he could manage. "It's beautiful!"

"Well…I didn't think we could celebrate Christmas properly in my quarters; they are part of a cold dungeon, after all. And…Hermione suggested that it might be nice when you went to talk to Ron. Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas." Harry followed Severus to the couch, fingering the package he had in his pockets. "Severus—I want you to know you're one of the best things that's ever happened to me—right up there with Ron and Hermione. You three are all the family I'll ever need."

That reminded him. "Harry, I think we need to talk about that."

Harry looked at Severus, confused. "About what, Sev?"

"What do you mean by 'all the family you need'? I know you've been staying with your Aunt and Uncle. Surely they are your family, too—they are, after all, related." Harry's face darkened, and Severus almost regretted bringing it up, but they needed to talk about this before something terrible happened. Still, maybe he should have waited until _after_ Christmas. That probably would have been smart.

"Technically, yes. They are my family. But they've never felt like that." Severus waited, expectantly. He wasn't going to prod Harry on—that would only make Harry stay quiet—but he wasn't going to stop until he had answers. He was a patient man, and he could wait until Harry was ready…as long as it didn't take the entire day. "They never treated me like family—more like a servant that they had a few moral obligations to, including food, shelter, clothing and somewhat of an education. I cooked, cleaned, did all the chores—everything, as long as it meant that I would be busy, out of their way, and out of the danger of embarrassing them."

Severus put a hand on Harry's, lending him silent comfort. Harry took a deep breath and made an effort to relax. He could get through this. "They gave me the bare minimum to survive on. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs—my Hogwarts letter was even addressed there—and I lived mostly on canned fruits and vegetables, bread and water. I generally ate any leftovers I could after dinner for variety. Dudley didn't leave many leftovers, though, so it was never much. I got all hand-me-downs for clothing, and I was lucky if they remembered to get me a present for my birthday or Christmas. Uncle Vernon beat me often, for every little indiscretion, especially when he was drunk or when he had a bad day at work. Dudley and his gang beat me up in school, and I had no friends—because my friends were always beaten up, too. People learned not to associate themselves with me. Even the teachers turned a blind eye. That's why I'm so grateful to Hogwarts—it's given me a chance to make friends, learn, and generally make my life worth living. Hermione and Ron are two of the most important things in my life. The Weasleys are great, too—they treat me like one of their own, no matter how poor they are. I don't care about the money my parents left me, or my celebrity in the wizarding world. All I care about is having people close to me who I can love and who can love me back. You, Hermione, Ron, Remus, Sirius, and the Weasleys are all I could ever ask for." Grief had momentarily taken hold of his voice as he said Sirius's name, but that passed. Severus had heard that over the summer, Harry had taken three long weeks to come to terms with his Godfather's death, and though he was still sad about it, he could now talk about it without breaking down in tears (something Severus was glad for—he wasn't sure he could comfort Harry when it came to his grief for someone he had despised with a passion).

Severus fought the urge to leave Harry, Apparate to Number Four, Private Drive, and hex the Dursleys until no one even wanted to look at them. Maybe he could influence the Dark Lord to harm them…but no. Harry wouldn't want that, and he would end up feeling guilty about it in the long run. But there were things he could do: ruin Mr. Dursley's business, slowly isolate the little one until he had no friends, spread nasty rumors to all of their neighbors until they were eventually asked to leave the neighborhood…he would have to do some research and planning. Until then, he would devote all his attention to making Harry's life perfect.

Severus wrapped Harry in a hug, then picked one more thing to clarify before they made their Christmas perfect. "And…there's one more thing that's been bothering me. You said that your friends define you. Why?"

"They are everything I want to be, really. Hermione's so smart and funny and caring. Ron's honest, friendly, courageous, and loyal, no matter what happens. They support me and inspire me to make them proud—so I do. They define everything I do and want to be. Actually, lately, you've had a large part in that as well."

"No. If that's what I am to you, I don't want to be here. Harry, you are your own person. Do not ever feel like you have to do something to make others proud of you, no matter what. Do things _you_ want to do. If _you_ want to be smart, caring, honest, loyal—whatever—then do it for yourself, not for others. And I have news for you, Harry: you _are_ all those things. And so much more. If anything, you show those qualities more than your friends combined. You do not _need_ your friends to be any of those things. You don't need _me_ to be those things. You only need yourself, and I want to make sure you know that."

Harry was quiet for a long time, taking in everything Severus had said. "Thank you, Severus. I'm not sure if I believe it myself, but I will try to make myself believe it, if nothing else. And it's nice to know you have that much faith in me."

"Harry, you _are_ my faith. Before you came, I lived my life in a dull routine. I was a spy with no life, whose students—for the most part—hated me. I came to my chambers after classes, graded all my papers, then brewed potions into the early morning. I went to sleep, then did it all over again. You changed that. I get more sleep now, first of all. If you've noticed, I'm slightly more tolerant in classes—though I doubt many people realize it." Of course, Harry _had_ noticed, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to make Severus stop.

"I now have a purpose in my spying—to try to help you. Not that that wasn't my purpose before; I just didn't believe it until our little meetings. I finally have a social life again, and the other Professors aren't always looking to get away from me. Minerva actually came up to me—of her own free will—and initiated a conversation with me the other day. That hasn't happened in years, ever since I isolated myself with my hard exterior. It hurt me more than I realized—I didn't even know that I was lonely until we started talking. Then I looked forward to your conversations, because it was the only time during the day I wasn't intentionally isolated or surrounded by blithering idiots in class. My life's improved so much since you came into it—and it's bound to improve even more."

"Thank you." Harry smiled and stretched up to give Severus a chaste kiss. "Enough of this mushy, introspective talk. I want to open presents! I am only a teenager, after all. Sex and gifts are all I have on my mind."

Severus chuckled and waved his wand. To Harry's amazement, his gift materialized right before his eyes. "You have two gifts, actually. This is the lesser."

Harry's eyes widened. "Severus—you shouldn't have gotten me two."

"Yes, I should have. You, the Headmaster, and the Faculty and Staff Secret Santa are the only people I bought for this year. I have money, and I rarely spend it. Buying gifts for people is one of those few times I spend it."

"Not true. You got a gift for Hermione and Ron."

"I didn't buy that, Harry—I made it. It was really nothing; I needed something to do while I was grading papers so I could take a break every so often from reading the mindless blathering of your peers. I was just trying to be productive, and seeing as the hospital is stocked for a long while as it is, I—"

"Don't make excuses, Severus," Harry interrupted. "I was just thanking you; not questioning your motives—though I think Ron was. I just want you to know it meant a lot to me. It surprised all of us, and Hermione was truly grateful and amazed. Ron, of course, has mixed feelings, but gratitude was one of them. Which reminds me—they wanted me to say thank you for them. Ron even said that without prodding from Hermione—which is saying something. Whatever doubts Hermione had are gone, and Ron's are dissolving slowly. Thanks for even thinking of them in the first place."

Severus smiled. "You're welcome, Harry. Now—open your present before _I_ get impatient with all this mushy talk."

Harry grinned and grabbed the present. It was of an average size, average weight. When he shook it, there was no movement. "Harry, you're not going to see what it is that way. You have to take the wrapping paper off first. Anyways, there's a suspension spell and a disguise spell on it. It won't shake, and the size and weight are disguised so you can't guess."

Harry shot Severus a glare. "That's not fair—half the fun is guessing what it is!" Severus chuckled and waved his hand, indicated that Harry should continue with the opening of his present. Harry didn't need another hint—he tore into the present.

Inside was a brown box. "A box! Just what I've always wanted." Harry jumped up and hugged Harry.

Severus was shocked—was he so unused to getting presents that he thought this was a _box_? Maybe he _could_ sacrifice the Dursleys to Voldemort, after all. All he had to do was suggest to the right people that…

Harry burst out laughing, shaking him out of his early planning. "The look on your face was _priceless_. I take it there's something inside the box?"

"Insolent brat," Severus said, letting a grin show through. He gave Harry credit, that was for sure.

Harry pulled apart the box top with a little difficulty. "Did you use enough tape?"

"I probably could have used more, but I didn't have time to run to a Muggle town for another roll. I already used two on it."

Harry turned to look at Severus. "Two?" he asked, incredulous.

Severus laughed. "Yes, two. And another one on your other present. I've never used Muggle tape before. I remember you talking about how much fun it was to rip presents open on Christmas, and it's hard to do that with a sticking spell, no matter how much easier it is to use—but I figured I would be indulgent." Harry grinned—Severus was trying so hard to make him feel at home; he didn't even remember saying that. And it was working so incredibly well.

Instead of waiting another moment, Harry turned and tore off the rest of the tape. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the present, disbelief showing in his face. "Severus—I repeat myself. You _really_ shouldn't have."

"Well—yours was destroyed by the storm, and I felt it was the least I could do. You were out there, after all, because I wasn't completely true with you." Severus was flustered, but years of training as a spy helped him to conceal his embarrassment. He hadn't expected Harry to get so emotional about it.

A grin broke out on Harry's face. "Thank you, Severus. Despite what everyone says, you are an incredibly thoughtful person." Harry took out his brand new broom and let it hover in front of him. It was the newest model—a Shooting Star, the fastest model around. He and Ron had read about it in _Quidditch Weekly_. Its balance was unsurpassed, and its speed was unheard of. It turned on a dime, and it responded at the merest hint from its owner. Some said that they cast a mind-reading charm on the broom that enabled the broom to take brainwaves and transform them into directions—if you wanted to be a hair to the left, the broom knew and obeyed.

"I'm tempted to go to the Quidditch Pitch right now, barring the fact that there are more presents to be opened, just to let you know." Severus grinned—he was so happy Harry liked the present. He wasn't sure if he would be stepping over the line by getting him this present.

"Now for your other present." If the broom made the butterflies twirl in Severus's stomach, this present put pterodactyls in the butterflies' place. This was the present Severus was scared of himself—he desperately wanted Harry to want this present and like this present.

"No. You get to open yours first. It's only fair. No, you can't change my mind—you shouldn't even try to protest, Sev. Get over it."

Severus finally nodded his consent, even if it meant having to wait for the stomach-jerking moment a little longer. Not that he didn't mind opening his own present—he just wanted the moment over and done with.

"Here." Severus took the small box, which Harry had pulled out of his pocket. "I hope you like it." Harry twiddled his fingers nervously.

Severus put a hand on Harry's, stilling them. "Harry, I am sure I will love whatever you give me. I would have enjoyed just spending the day with you, nothing more." Harry smiled and put his hands in his lap. Severus could tell Harry was still a little nervous, but that didn't matter. He knew Harry was thoughtful—the present would be wonderful.

Severus had taken the first bit of tape off carefully, making sure not to wrinkle the paper, before Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. "Severus if you continue to take that wrapping paper off in such a slow, neat way, I might have to hurt you. Presents are wrapped for one reason only: to give the receiver the joy of being able to rip off the paper."

"Really, Harry. I thought presents were wrapped so the receiver would be surprised when he opened it."

"That too. But mostly for the fun of tearing up the paper. Now _rip_!"

Severus smiled indulgently, and braced himself—then he ripped open the paper. He had never done that before…and oddly, he found in liberating. He should try this more often. Ripping paper _was_ fun, if a bit childish.

Inside was a small, silver box. Severus gingerly reached down and touched it; it was beautiful. From the looks of the craftsmanship, it was about fifty years old. A while ago, wizards had taken a special interest in making amazingly detailed and delicate (but strong) items. Most items were boxes, jewelry and a little bit of silverware (though the dining ware phase didn't last long—people didn't want to eat on something so beautiful, so no one bought the items). Along with having amazing detail, the items were always imbued with one or two special charms. Protection spells, identification spells, illusion spells, etc. The dining ware almost always had spells to tell if your food was poisoned, along with some other, trivial spell. Jewelry sometimes had spells to make their wearers more attractive or more popular. The stuff was rare to find nowadays—a lot of it was destroyed during Voldemort's earlier reign. Severus doubted Harry knew what he was giving away.

"Before you say anything, yes, I do know what that is—though I'm pretty sure the shopkeeper didn't know what he had, or it would have cost a lot more. When I realized how important it probably was, I did some research. The box has snakes writhing on it—thousands of them. It's hard to make out what they are without looking at it for a long time. They are called the Sairlains, and they are very friendly—well to the two of us, at least. They didn't like the shopkeeper very much. Oh, and they speak both Parseltongue and English. They will protect whatever you ask them to protect."

Severus smiled at Harry. This was an amazing gift. Severus opened the box. The box had a deep red, velvet interior. It probably had an expansion spell on it, so anything could be put inside it. Amazing. Beautiful. Perfect. "I love it, Harry. Thank you so much."

Harry beamed with pride. "I'm glad you like it."

"Now, for your last present. Enjoy." Severus waved his wand again, and the present appeared. This present was much smaller, and didn't appear to have a disguise spell on it. It was rectangular, and fairly thin. Harry had no idea what it could be.

Harry ripped the paper open and tore the tape off the box (there really _was_ an entire roll of tape on that box, Harry decided halfway through opening it, before throwing an exasperated look at Severus). Harry pulled the box top off to find—a picture.

Tears came to Harry's eyes. It was a picture of his mother and father, probably in their last year of school. They weren't paying attention to whoever was taking the picture—they were completely absorbed in each other.

"When I heard you didn't have many pictures of your parents, I figured you would like this one. I used to be obsessed with taking pictures—I'm not entire sure why. That's the last picture I took, ever. I was devastated after James left me, and I took pictures of him constantly; I became his stalker, of sorts. I wasn't planning on stopping, either. I wanted to get him back. Then I developed this picture, and I saw how completely they were in love with each other. They didn't even have to kiss to express their unadulterated love, something I realized James and I would never accomplish. I stopped taking pictures of him and immediately began on ridding myself of my obsession with him; I figured it would be for the best if I dropped out of his life completely, for the both of us. I became so good at pushing him away from me that I eventually convinced myself that I hated him. The rest is history." Tears came to Harry's eyes. Then Severus said something Harry never expected. "There's another picture, you know."

Harry looked at Severus, eyes wide with surprise—another picture? He turned his eyes back to the box to notice that, indeed, there was another picture below the one of his parents. Harry picked the picture up—to find a picture of himself and Severus. It was recent—yesterday, if Harry's memory was correct. Severus must have taken it without him knowing. They were kissing, slowly, and every few minutes, they paused to look at each other. The look in their eyes—Harry could tell, even though it was a picture, that they loved each other. That look was exactly like the one his parents wore.

That was when Harry realized it—the thought hit him like a speeding train that didn't even begin to put its brakes on before it hit him. He loved Severus. Sure, he had already known that—if anyone asked him, that's what he would say. But now, he really _knew_ it. He _knew_ that no matter what, he wanted Severus to be there—forever. Severus might not define him—but he knew he wouldn't be able to go on if anything happened to the 'Snarky Potions Professor.'

"Thank you, Severus. Thank you so, so much." Harry wrapped Severus in a hug, not letting go for long minutes. Tears seeped out of Harry's eyes, but he didn't make a move to wipe them away. These tears deserved to come.

After an indefinite amount of time, Harry pulled away. He went to the chair Severus's photo album was hidden under and pulled it out. He flipped to the last page with anything on it, and gazed at his father and Severus kissing for a few moments. Then he took the picture of himself and Severus and placed it on the opposite page, murmuring a sticking spell and a protection spell as Colin had once showed him to do (Harry had had nothing else to do, so he had listened to Colin explain the intricacies of Wizarding photos—it had been boring and tortuous, but now Harry was grateful he had paid attention).

Severus came to where Harry was sitting on the floor and sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "Perfect," he said, placing a chaste kiss on Harry's head. "Just perfect."

* * *

Author's Note: All together now: Awww! Okay, it was incredibly mushy. But a _lot_ happened in that chapter, and it was really long…so, even if there _was_ a lot of fluff, at least we're getting somewhere.

Johnny: Just as a reminder to all of you who might not know, you can make a donation to Abinikai's Sanity Relief Fund by clicking on the button in the bottom-left corner of the screen. You are not required to make a donation of money (though we would never complain if you did), and it only takes a few moments to save this girl's sanity. Please, save a life. Thanks!


	16. Damn Draco

Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been a while. Sorry! Before we get started, Johnny & I just want all of you to know that you are what keep us going. Your reviews cheer us (especially me) up—no matter what's happening. And they definitely remind us to update!!! So I will not keep you from the story any longer! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Radioactive Green Flying Monkeys will take over the world before I own these characters, settings, or idea. The only things mine are the Sairlains and the storyline. So sorry to disappoint you.

**Thanks so much for all your reviews. So many donations! I got some of my _best_ reviews ever, too! Please, _please_ go see my livejournal (link on my profile page thingy) to get comments--and comment back to me! I would love talking to you guys! Let me know if any of you have AIM or MSN Messenger; maybe we can chat!**

Chapter 16

* * *

Joy. Wonderful, blissful joy was the only thing Harry felt, and frankly, he could get used to it. He had stayed Christmas night (after making sure Ron and Hermione were okay with it), and he was currently enjoying the warm sensation of waking up to the man he loved.

Loved. He was still trying to get used to that, a little. It was such a strange feeling…to _love_ someone, especially as much as Harry loved Severus. To actually acknowledge the feeling, though—that was even stranger. To wake up next to that man and feel the warm feeling of content and fullness, _wholeness_, was something Harry never wanted to give up—ever. Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief, content to just be here…

…And decided he needed a shower. Severus was still asleep (which thoroughly surprised Harry—he _never_ slept longer than Harry, and he was usually up hours before), so he got out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb Severus. His hopes were soon crushed; Severus rolled over and opened his eyes groggily.

"Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm taking a shower; I'll be out in a few minutes." Harry turned and walked into the adjacent bathroom. He couldn't wait to feel clean—it was one of his joys. Back with the Dursleys, he never showered more than 3 or 4 times a week, if he was lucky—here, he showered at least every day, sometimes two or three times a day. He also loved hot water—not warm, _hot_, because at the Dursleys, they always used the hot water before he took his shower, and ran the sink throughout his shower, to make sure he had no joy in taking it.

Harry let the warm water wash over him, thinking of last night and all that had passed between himself and Severus. He had learned so much in such a short period of time—about how Severus felt, about how he saw Harry, and—most important—a bit of how Severus _felt_ about Harry. He couldn't be entirely sure…but maybe Severus returned Harry's feelings exactly.

Harry was, of course, a little embarrassed about some things that had happened last night. First, there was how much he had opened up to Severus—at the time, he had thought nothing of it, but now that it was already done, he realized that he had never opened up to someone that much in his life. That one person would know that much about him intimidated him a little bit. Second, there was how mushy he had been—he never though himself capable of being that…effeminate was the only word he could think of. The picture…what he had said concerning Sev and his friends…oh how the list went on. It was quite a bit embarrassing to see in retrospect. But he had said it, and he had meant all of it (though he was still a bit uncomfortable about placing his picture next to his father's, for reasons he wasn't sure about), so there was no point in taking any of it back or regretting having said it. Right?

Harry was interrupted by a polite knock on the door. "Harry, in case you've forgotten, I like to shower as well. If you wait much longer, I may have to interrupt your shower."

"Really, Sev? How do you wish to do that?" Harry could see where this was going, and he was ready to go there.

"It would be most…unpleasant, I'm warning you."

"I'm sure I won't mind." Harry almost snickered.

Harry was waiting with anticipation, a feral grin on his face…until the cold water came out of the faucet. He let out a shriek and jumped out of the shower as fast as humanly possible. "What the _hell_ was that for?" he yelled through the door.

"Now, Harry, there will be no cursing in the schools. Do it again and I will be forced to take away house points. I was merely trying to get you out of the shower. I need to shower, you need to dress, and then we need to get to breakfast."

Harry was speechless. "I thought you were—never mind."

"No, Harry, I was not going to join you. As much as I might enjoy that, we need to move fairly quickly, and cannot afford…distractions. Please hurry; I really would like to shower before breakfast."

Harry stormed out of the shower, brushing by Severus, who wore an amused grin on his face. Without another word, Severus went to take his shower and Harry got dressed (he found that Severus had already done a cleansing charm on his clothes, thoughtful bastard).

Just as Severus was finishing up with his shower, Harry heard a polite knock on the door, followed by the sound of said door opening with a loud bang. He wondered momentarily who on earth had the nerve to storm into Severus's chambers uninvited and (for the most part) unannounced, but he didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Severus, where the hell are you?" shouted a familiar voice.

Harry barely had enough time to hide before Draco stormed into the room. The blonde looked furious, which was exactly how Harry felt. How dare he, intrude on their morning? Never mind that he was pretending to be mad with Severus—the Slytherin had NO right. Severus came out seconds later, eyes widened slightly in worry (though if you didn't know him very well, you'd never know). After a quick glance around the room to assure himself Harry was sufficiently hidden, Severus turned his full attention to Draco.

"Draco. Has something happened?" That would be the only reason Draco would even come back to Hogwarts halfway through the year—let alone storm into his room uninvited. Draco generally had very good manners, and this was unlike him. Even without all that knowledge, it wouldn't take an idiot to see that Draco was nearly on the verge of tears—even the untrained eye could see it, and that was saying something, since Draco could generally mask his feelings from the public fairly well.

Draco scowled. "Of course something's wrong. Father's kicked me out of the house, that's what's wrong."

This wasn't unheard of with the Malfoys, but Severus was still surprised. Narcissa usually wouldn't let Draco be kicked out on the holidays—especially not Christmas. And since it took Draco about a day (on average) to reach Hogwarts after he'd been kicked out of the house (and he must have been traveling all night, too), the event had happened sometime yesterday, probably earlier in the day.

"What happened this time?"

"I…don't want to talk about it." Wow, it must have been bad—worse than usual. Draco would open up eventually, Severus knew, but it still worried him. He would have to talk to the Headmaster about having Draco stay with him in the future (especially over the summer—that was the worst time), if possible.

…But what about Harry? There was no way he could carry a secret relationship if he had Draco living with him, and he didn't want to give Harry up for the world. But he couldn't leave his godson out of his life, just because he was in a relationship with Harry. He would have to talk with Harry about this soon.

"Why don't you go to breakfast? I'm sure you're tired, but you need food, too. I'll be up in a moment. We should be able to find the Headmaster, and we'll be able to work something out. I'm sure you'll be able to stay for the rest of break, of course. As your Godfather, I think the Headmaster will let me take care of you, as long as there is no reason you should remain in your father's custody."

"Yes, Severus. I'll see you there. I am sorry for interrupting your morning."

Once Draco had gone, Harry burst out from the closet he had been hiding in. "What was that about?" he asked, barely able to contain his fury. He knew he had no right to be mad—Draco was obviously in trouble—but he couldn't help it. He wasn't really angry at Draco—just the world in general, for screwing with his life. He knew where this was going—he suddenly saw his future with Severus about to become a lot more difficult.

"Draco gets kicked out of the house by his father every so often. Sometimes for really little things, like dropping a glass—but other times for much more serious, dangerous things. For little things, he's usually invited back after a couple days…but I have a feeling it might be a long time before Draco's invited back this time. I have a bad feeling about this one."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I understand that part; I gathered it from the conversation. And I take it that he generally doesn't barge in, too—though let me tell you, it was a bit disconcerting. Just tell me one thing: should I be worried?" Severus didn't say anything for a long time, and Harry finally got fed up with the silence. "I see. I'll be at breakfast, Severus."

Harry knew he was being childish and rude…but he couldn't help it. To have everything become so close to perfection, and then be ruined in one fell swoop by the blonde-haired Slytherin whose goal in life was to make his own life miserable…it wasn't something Harry was looking forward to, at least.

Harry went up to the Gryffindor tower, never even thinking about going to breakfast after first having said it. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, he would worry Severus—but currently, he didn't really care. Severus had hurt him in two ways: first, he had never told Harry he was Draco's godfather. It was trivial information, but that wasn't what mattered—what mattered was that Harry didn't know, and he was in a strong relationship with Severus. He had thought he knew those kinds of details about Severus—he knew all the really important ones, like that Severus was a Death Eater and had been in love with his father…but he failed to know these little things—partly because he didn't ask, and partly because Severus didn't tell him.

The second thing Harry was mad about was really much more childish, trivial and stupid—which would be why it bothered him the most, of course. He was hurt because he was afraid Severus would choose Draco over himself, and Severus had done absolutely nothing to ease his troubles. He knew that Severus wasn't the kind of person who would lie, even if it would make others feel better, but that was despite the point. It would have been nice to get an "I'll try" or "We'll work something out." Not just silence…even if that was the person Severus tended to be.

Still, he had other things to worry about, right? His friends were still uneasy with the idea of him and Severus, so it was probably a good idea to spend some time with them showing that one, he was still Harry, their friend, and that wouldn't change, and two, he loved Severus and Severus loved him, and that wouldn't change either.

Ron and Hermione appeared sometime after breakfast, looking flushed and breathless—it seemed they had been snogging, Harry thought bemusedly. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"Harry!" Hermione said enthusiastically. She rushed over and hugged him. "How are you? How was your Christmas?"

Ron looked a little uneasy, but he still gave Harry a clap on the back. "Yeah, mate? How ya been?"

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "Christmas was absolutely wonderful, Hermione. First, there was the time I spent with you—that was magnificent. I felt like I had a family." Hermione hugged Harry again, smiling warmly; she was glad to be Harry's family, no matter what.

"And how was your time with Severus?" Hermione was determined to not let it get to her that her best friend was dating her professor, and she was just as determined to make Ron come around and at least accept, if not encourage, them.

Harry smiled dreamily. "Good. Very, very good."

Hermione looked scandalized. "You're not going to tell us any more than that?" Ron looked uncomfortable, but after an elbow from Hermione, nodded his head in consent. Hermione waved her wand and a warm, plush chair flew in front of the couch. "Sit, and tell us all about it!"

Harry was grateful for Hermione's enthusiasm. He needed to stop moping about something he couldn't change (yet) and remember why, exactly, he loved Severus. What better way to do that than tell Hermione and Ron what had happened last night and attempt to convince them of the things he already knew?

So he told everything. From the broom he got (Ron was shocked) to the pictures. He had to explain a little of the background of his father and Severus for them to appreciate the full meaning of the pictures, of course, but he left out that he had found out on his own, and this was the reason he had been in the hospital. Hermione was worried about Severus lusting after Harry because of his father, but Harry explained what Severus had told her, and she consented that he might be telling the truth. Then she exclaimed over how adorable and cute and romantic it was.

"Oh, Harry—for him to take that picture of you two kissing! That must have taken planning, and he must have stayed up for a while just to develop it and find your parents' picture. It was so nice of him to think of that, too—I'm amazed at how considerate he is! And then to buy you a new broom, because yours was smashed! It's too sweet!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Great, mate. Now she'll want me to do all the same for her."

"Ronald Weasley! I should think that you would already _know_ to do all that for me! And don't you think that it's rude to say something like that—especially in my presence?" Hermione sighed exasperatedly and crossed her arms.

Ron turned red. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I want to do those things for you—romantic and stuff—but I just don't know how."

Hermione smiled. "I know. And that's another reason I love you."

Harry laughed. "You two are so funny to watch. You actually remind me of Severus and myself, surprisingly. There's always playful banter between us, nowadays."

Hermione smiled. "I'm so happy you're together, Harry. I might not see why, yet, but I see that he makes you happy, and that's just fine by me. Speaking of you and him together, why weren't you at breakfast today?"

Ron scowled. "Personally, I don't blame him, and I think he's lucky. You know _Malfoy's_ back, Harry? He won't say why, but I don't think it's good. I think he might be in trouble, 'cause he and Dumbledore and Severus were gonna talk after breakfast. I hope that ferret—"

Ron was cut off mid-sentence by Hermione's elbow. She, unlike he, had noticed the dark look come across Harry's face. "I think Harry already knew Draco was here, Ron."

It took a moment for Ron to understand. "You've already seen him? While you were with Severus? Does he know?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he doesn't know. He doesn't even know I was in the room. I heard him coming, so I hid in the closet. Sev was in the shower…he is in trouble, though I don't know what for. He's been kicked out of the house, though. But don't tell anyone—I'm not supposed to know, let alone you two. If he finds out we know why, he might take a lucky guess at Severus and myself." Harry wouldn't meet their eyes, for fear of exploding with anger.

Hermione and Ron nodded their heads with concern. "Harry, what's wrong? Is something else bothering you?" asked Hermione, who was always perceptive—not that it was hard to tell something was bothering Harry.

Harry's scowl deepened. "I think Severus might have to take Draco in. He's Draco's godfather, so if Draco's in trouble and his father won't help, Severus has to be there for him. It…it could be bad for us, as far as I can tell." Harry told them the rest of what had happened and was said that morning, ending with Severus's silence and his storming out.

Hermione leaned over and hugged Harry. "I'm so sorry, Harry. It seemed that everything was going so well, and now this."

"That Slytherin has to ruin everything he touches, even those things he doesn't know about, doesn't he?" Harry resisted crying and nodded. He didn't want things to end this way between himself and Severus…he didn't want them to end at all.

"Are you going down later, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think so. I'll wait until Sev sends me a note or something. I don't want to intrude, and if I do happen to barge in at the wrong time, it could be disastrous."

"Good thinking, Harry. Maybe, if things don't start to happen, I'll go down there later to ask about a paper or something. He'll probably understand it's for you, even if we don't say a word about you. Maybe that will prompt him to do something." Just then, a note appeared in front of Harry. "Or maybe not. Well, there go my heroic plans—and here I thought I was going to be able to save the day."

Harry smiled weakly. He didn't really want to open the paper, but he knew he had to. He reached out to take the paper, but Hermione got to it before him. Harry looked at her gratefully. Ron stood over her shoulder to read it with her. After a cursory glance to make sure it wouldn't hurt Harry, Hermione read the note out loud.

_H._

_I am sorry for my actions this morning. If you will come down tonight, around seven, I will explain more thoroughly. I do not expect you to come, but I will hope. I would not blame you if you refuse. Still, my door will be open._

_S._

"Are you going to go, Harry?" asked Ron. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

Harry looked thoughtfully into the fire of the common room. "Yes, I am. I need to hear whatever he has to say, and postponing it won't change it or make things better—they're only liable to get worse if I avoid Severus."

"Good. That's what I was going to say," said Hermione. She gave him yet another hug. By the end of all of this, Harry thought, he would have enough hugs to last a lifetime.

"And I can't say I disagree," conceded Ron. "Even if I don't like it."

"Thanks, guys. It means a lot. Hey, why don't we go play in the snow? No one's around, so we'll have it all to ourselves, and a new layer fell just a few days ago—it hasn't been touched much at all!"

"And that, Harry, is a crime!" Ron cried. "Let's go! And why don't we test out your new broom—the snow should be fun to land in."

With that, they all went and played. Harry's new broom, of course, was a delight. Ron even convinced Hermione to ride on the tail of it for a little, while he steered. They went incredibly slow (compared to the broom's ability), but Hermione had a blast, and by the time they landed, Ron's face was flushed from more than just windburn.

* * *

Harry knocked tentatively on Severus's door a few minutes after seven. It flung open almost immediately, and Severus smiled warmly (and a little nervously) at Harry. "I hoped you would come." Severus wrapped Harry in a hug. "I'm sorry, Harry. I was a jerk. Come inside and let me explain, okay?" Harry nodded, refusing to speak.

Severus was quiet and contemplative while they comfortably settled on the couch in each other's arms. Harry was glad to be holding Severus again—he really wanted to be comforted, and this was the best way to get it. He closed his eyes and waited for Severus' explanation, which had better be damn good.

"I gather you already knew Draco is my godson. He comes to me whenever he needs help. Whenever he is kicked out of the house, especially. It usually only happens over summer, when I am at the family estate, if only because Narcissa loves spending time with Draco and won't let Lucius kick him out of the house when she only has a short time to spend with him. He's usually kicked out three to four times a year, though it varies. This started when Draco was four years old, so you can see that it's become a habit for him to come straight to me. This time…is more serious than the previous times. Draco was to be inducted into the Death Eater ranks over the Christmas holiday, much to my objection. He refused, thankfully, but he has disgraced his father terribly. Unless he decides to grovel and beg to be given one more chance and becomes a Death Eater, he will not be able to return home. I probably will not be allowed to take him in, though Dumbledore and I have figured out a way around that."

"Severus, I know you have a point in there, somewhere, hidden amidst all that information, but I would enjoy it if you just said what you were trying to say, instead of beating around the bush like this." Harry was exasperated with this small talk, and if it went like this much longer, he would just leave.

"I want you to understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. It is not as easy to explain as I would have wished."

"Severus, he's your godson, and I know that. You need to take care of him. I don't begrudge you of that—I just can't say I'm happy about all of it, okay? Let me know when I can help, and let me know when I can safely come back. Until then, I'll let you sort everything out on your own."

Harry was sad about his decision, but he knew it had to be done. Severus needed time away from him to think clearly, and he would give his lover that time. He got up to leave, but Severus caught his hand. "Harry, that was not where I was going with this. I don't want to spend time away from you just because of Draco, and I don't want to spend time away from Draco just for you, because I know you wouldn't allow yourself to put me through that kind of pain." Someone knocked on the door, and a feeling of dread filled Harry's stomach. This was _not_ going where he thought it was going…was it?

It was. "Come in," Severus said. "You're right on time."

Draco walked through the door, the epitome of self-confidence and a stuck-up attitude. "I can't see what on earth you called me down here for, Severus," Draco said, not yet seeing what was happening in the living room. "We'd sorted every thing out earlier, and I can't see what else there is to talk about." And then he turned around.

Draco was speechless—utterly at a loss for words, for the first time Harry had ever seen. His mouth dropped open a slight bit for a moment and his eyes went round until he realized what he looked like (a drowned fish) and regained his composure. "What is _he_ doing here, Severus? In your chambers? When you told me to come down? You'd better have a good explanation for interrupting us, Potter," said Malfoy in the most scathing voice he could muster.

Harry just dropped his head. He just didn't want to deal with this, and Severus was forcing him through it. Harry sat resignedly on the chair, eyes downcast and waiting for Severus to make everything all right—if, in fact, that was possible, which Harry highly doubted.

"Draco, you might want to sit down."

Draco scowled. "Sit down? Next to Potter? No thanks."

"Suit yourself. The problem I mentioned…involves Harry." Draco's eyes widened slightly at Severus's use of Harry's first name, but he didn't say anything. He knew better than to interrupt his elders. "It started at the beginning of the term; Harry and I were ordered to have 'meetings' together every week to 'overcome our differences,' at the request of Professor Dumbledore. In short, Harry and I overcame our differences with remarkable success, and—"

"What the hell?" Draco interrupted. Screw being polite! "You're telling me that you're buggering Harry?" Draco's face contorted into a mass of repulsion and anger. "Severus, that is outright _gross_ and _idiotic_ of you, if I may be allowed to say. What are you thinking?"

Severus stood up, his eyes burning with anger. "Draconis Lucius Malfoy. You shall not speak to me in that way, with that tone of voice, _ever_. Harry and I are not 'buggering' each other, as you so eloquently put it. We are in a _relationship_—not some childish fling. It shall not, under any circumstances, be degraded and debased by anything you say ever again—do I make myself clear?"

Draco's eyes were livid, but he knew when he could and could not get away with crossing his godfather—this was one of those times it was damn near impossible (unless you wanted something nasty to end up in your drink, causing your intestines to slowly rot away from the inside out, causing you a great deal of pain). "Yes, Severus," he said icily.

"Good. Nor will you speak badly of Harry again in my presence—and pray that if you speak poorly of him _outside_ my presence, word does not reach my ear of what you have said. You shall keep this a secret, Draco—I should not need to remind you of the consequences of letting slip the nature of our relationship."

"Yes, Severus," Draco said in the same tone of voice, though Severus could tell Draco would not say a word—for now.

"I am only telling you this, Draco, because I do not wish to choose between Harry or you, because I am not sure I could make that choice to begin with. I already have too many secrets in my life, and I do not think I could stand to keep another by lying to you about Harry. I have told you, Draco, partly because I do not wish to hide things from you, and partly because I believe you can be a mature person who will not use this information to make something horrible happen for _all_ of us. And Draco—I mean _all_ of us. If you hurt Harry, it could have dire consequences on our relationship as well."

Draco nodded sullenly. "That doesn't mean I support it."

Severus smirked in triumph; he could hear Draco understood. "I'm not asking for your support, Draco. I'm asking for your secrecy."

Harry turned to Severus. "Is…is that all you wanted me down here for, Sev?"

Severus nodded. "I just want you to know that I'm not choosing between the two of you—I would not trust my own decision."

"Alright. Then I'll be going. I still have a bit to sort out with Ron and Hermione—mostly Ron. I'll see you tomorrow?" Severus nodded, and Harry left.

Draco was astounded at the comfortable conversation between his Godfather and his arch enemy. "You're—you're serious, aren't you?"

"What made you think otherwise, Draco? I mean, if I wasn't clear enough above, I can go on," Severus said.

"I think you've made the wrong choice, Severus. How could you be so stupid as to have a relationship with Potter? He's—_Potter_ for God's sake!"

Severus looked at Draco. "I know well enough who he is. Maybe you should try to know him, too. I think you and he would get along quite well if you could get past your childish rivalry."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'll believe that when pigs fly. Potter and I will never get along—we're like fire and water. We'd never work well together."

"I think you'd be surprised at how similar fire and water really are, Draco."

* * *

Author's Note: I think Severus talked too much, but I guess that's just Severus's innate (vocab word! Okay, I'm strange) desire to talk. I got to admit, though—he ripped Draco a new one with that first little bit he said in response to Draco's outburst. Heheh. Good little sarcastic monkey—I've trained you well!

Severus: I am _not_ your trained monkey, and I am only sarcastic to those who deserve it. What Draco said was highly inappropriate. You merely find it entertaining because you are not intelligent enough to come up with your own comebacks and remarks.

Johnny: Go Severus! You tell her! You here that? You're not intelligent!

Me: sniff I—I never thought I would be this hurt. presses big red button Bye Johnny and Sev! Johnny and Sev fall into a large pit of doom, never to be seen again (until the next chapter) Back to business. Next chapter will (hopefully) be up soon, though I make no promises.

When was the last time you made a donation? Make your tax-deductible (note sarcasm) donation to Abinikai's Sanity Relief Fund (as mentioned in last chapter) by clicking on the bottom left button. Remember—the more donations she has, the more she can accomplish. She received 23 reviews (some of substantial quality) last update—let's see if we can beat that!


	17. Chess

Author's Note: Hey everybody. I hope you're all doing well! **To answer one reviewer's question as to what to put in the reviews:** I like anything and everything—even if you're just saying hi. If you _really_ want to write a good review, try constructive criticism. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and what didn't seem right to you. If you can't think of what to say in that respect…well, I'm open to everything. Hell, if you're feeling really bored and quixotic, just give me a joke!

If you were wondering, I don't own anything Harry Potter related, unless you count the copies of the books we own, or the movies. We're not making money off of this, either. So don't sue.

PS—**excuse me if certain potion spell names are misspelled.** I'm too horrible a speller to spell them right (if, in fact, they are wrong), and I'm too lazy often too busy to look them up—hey, there are five books, two of which are pretty damn long—I'd rather not look through all those pages for a single word, thank you very much. Sorry. Feel free to correct me if (when) I'm wrong.

**I HAVE ADVANCED SERVICES! Therefore, if you have me on your author alerts list, you'll get an email the next time I update! Isn't that cool? Yay! Oh, and if anyone visits my profile page…the cow on it is the cow I show at School. Yes, I show cows. I'm weird. LOVE YOU ALL!**

Chapter 17

* * *

Severus stared into the depths of the potion, determining whether or not it would work. His instincts said yes, of course it would. His brain said it would never work, and that's what he feared—he wanted this to work. All the other potions he had ever made had been for the sake of making them—someone had presented a conundrum, challenged him, he was bored, or some other circumstance that prompted him to invent a potion. The Wolfsbane potion had been a challenge. Veriteserum came when someone said that a truth potion could not be made—it was impossible. Severus didn't believe in the word "impossible." 

But this was different—this was the potion for Harry. This was the potion that, if it worked, would save him from having to master Occlumency (though Severus still believed Harry needed it, it was time-consuming and difficult to master; Severus had no doubt Harry could do it, but he was worried about the time issue—Voldemort would not wait for Harry to become more adept at beating him). This potion could very well save Harry a lot of pain, both mentally and physically. It could mean the difference between a stressed, over-burdened Harry and a Harry that was happier with fewer "dark" things on his mind.

It had been a week and a half since Christmas, and Severus had been working on the potion with all his spare time—he had put aside multiple other potions, all his grading, and anything else he could manage. The school was due to return in two days, and Severus realized that his time was running out—the last day he was reserving for some last minute grading, and when the students came back, it would be harder and harder to find free time to work on the potion. This was his last hope before he had to wait until spring break, or even summer.

Severus put a stopper in the top of the potion carefully—he didn't want to spill a drop. He placed an anti-breaking charm on the potion and set it carefully on a shelf next to all the similar potions that had failed. He had a good feeling about this potion, but he couldn't quell his nervousness. Anything could go wrong—he didn't even know the after-affects yet. But that was a risk that he might have to take. First, though, he would talk to Dumbledore—make sure his thought process was flawless, his potion was (theoretically) correct, and it was okay to administer to Harry. He also planned to consult Flitwick (he wished to make sure none of the charms he placed conflicted) and Remus, for his DADA experience (there was a complicated defense spell on the potion, and he wanted to make sure it was relatively harmless). He could only hope.

* * *

Harry knocked on the door, then said the password and slipped through the entrance without waiting to be called in. Usually this would be okay—Severus wasn't always able to come to the door and let him in (potions and grading could be very consuming), and he was used to it. Harry knocked just to be polite. 

Of course, _usually _he wouldn't regret his decision. _Usually_ Harry would find Severus in the lab or at the desk, working on something or other, in want of some company to break the monotonous task of whatever he was doing. _Usually_, Harry wouldn't find Draco sprawled across the couch.

"Hello, Potter," Draco scowled. "And what, pray tell, is the Golden Boy doing here—and without the rest of the Golden Trio? Shame, really. Do they even know of your discretions with their most hated _professor_?

"Good evening, Draco." Harry had promised Severus he would be as courteous and kind as he possibly could to Draco—and Harry was taking that to heart. He was going to try, because he knew how much it meant to Severus to have his godson around. He knew Sev had had the same talk with Draco—but obviously it had gone in one ear and out the other. "Yes, Ron and Hermione know. They found out right before Christmas. They support me, too. Have you seen Severus? He wasn't at dinner, and I wanted to make sure he got something to eat."

Draco scoffed. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe that? You came down here to fuck him, didn't you?" Draco rolled his eyes. "You are too damned obvious. You act like an eager little sex-toy, you know?"

"Draco," Severus whispered in his most deadly tone. "I am glad to see you are trying your hardest to be courteous to Harry—your words are only too kind. I would think someone was forcing them out of your throat—oh, wait. I forgot. _You_ are forcing those despicable words out of your mouth."

"Severus," Draco said, his eyes slightly wide. "I did not know you were there." He turned to Harry. "I apologize."

"Draco, do not attempt to veil your intentions or force words you do not mean—you should know by now that I know when you lie, and you should also know I do not like it. I believe we talked about just not speaking in the first place, but you must have forgotten that conversation. Leave." Draco turned to go to the door. "Before you go, you should understand, Draco, that Harry often comes to make sure I get my meals—and nothing more. If you were to actually listen, you would know this. Leave."

"Yes, Severus. Good night." Draco walked stiffly out of the room, his cheeks tinted slightly from embarrassment and his eyes ablaze with anger. Harry knew Draco was mad at being embarrassed by his Godfather in front of his least-favorite person (other than Voldemort), and he also realized that anger would soon be taken out on him or his friends, or some other undeserving student.

Severus turned to Harry. "I am sorry, Harry. Draco has not yet acclimated to the idea of you and me."

Harry walked up to Severus and kissed him lightly. He realized that usually he would just hug Severus and he was just subconsciously reasserting his position with Severus by going a step farther than that time, but he needed the comfort of knowing Severus was _his_ when Draco was threatening to ruin his life. "I understand, Sev. I would have a hard time, myself, if I were in his position. I'm trying to understand where he's coming from—but I can't imagine being kicked out by my own father for doing something I believe in, and then turning to the one person I figure I can still trust to find he's betrayed me as well by going out with my second-worst enemy."

"Thank you for trying, Harry. I can tell you are. I know Draco realizes it—and I think that makes him even angrier. He hates to think I might be closer to you than him, and that you are trying and he is not only rubs salt in the wound. But don't worry; I have a feeling he will come around."

Harry smiled. "Okay, change of subject. Why weren't you at dinner? You know you need to eat more. You skip too many meals as it is."

Severus smiled back at Harry. "I know. I was having a meeting with Dumbledore about something important. It involves you, actually." Harry's eyes darkened. He didn't want this to be about him. Everything seemed to be about him, lately—how he was going to defeat Voldemort, the lessons he needed to take to do this, the special privileges he got (and didn't want) because he was supposed to kill "The Dark Lord." He hated being special. Severus knew all this, and he could read the emotions as they flashed across Harry's face. "Don't worry, Harry. This is something _I_ started—I wouldn't do something if I thought you would hate it, and you should know this."

Harry conceded the point, though he was still apprehensive. "What is it, then?"

Severus led Harry into his private lab. "As you know, I have been working on a potion since the last time I was called to Voldemort as much as I possibly could." Harry knew this—he had been spending less time with Severus, though that only meant he had more time to spend with Hermione and Ron, so he did his best not to feel depressed about that. But what did this have to do with him? "When I found out about your Visions, and how inefficient the Dreamless Sleep potion was at stopping all visions, I started working on a potion that could help." Severus could see the hope swelling in Harry's eyes—and he only hoped he was right, and this would work.

"I think I've made a breakthrough. I have consulted Dumbledore, Remus and Flitwick in the elements and theories of the potion, and we all believe it will work—in theory. A quick question: how often do you experience these visions?"

Harry didn't even need a second to think. "Almost every night. There's never more than two nights in a row that I don't have one. I report every one to Dumbledore as well as a journal I have, and a few in the Penseive Dumbledore has, if you would like to see any records of them."

"That won't be necessary for now, but thank you," said Severus. He was even happier now that he had completed the potion so soon—almost every night? That must be horrible, and Severus had never known. "We should know soon whether or not the potion works. We had some problems at first with it—Dumbledore realized that the Visions you have are sometimes important, and may give us insider information on what Voldemort is about to do, and he didn't want to give that up. It's designed to work like this: you take it every night, about an hour before you go to bed. If, in fact, you do have a vision that night, you will not actually experience the vision. In the morning, when you wake up, you will know you have had a vision. There will be a small mark on the back of your hand—a green snake, just to let you know. Go to Dumbledore or myself immediately; we are not sure how long the snake will stay, and once it's gone, so is the vision. We both have the spells to remove the information and view it. Once we have worked everything out and are comfortable with the potion, we will teach you the spell as well."

"Everything sounds good. What's the catch?" There was always a catch when something this good happened to Harry, and he didn't want to be caught off guard this time.

"A few things. First, of course, we do not know if the potion actually works, as it has not been tested. Second, we do not know the side effects—again, it has not been tested. You must report o me if _anything _seems strange or out of place, no matter how little. I will also require weekly reports on the status of _everything _you can think of—I advise keeping a journal, just to be safe. We will make adjustments in the dosage and proportion of ingredients as we can. Third, we do not know how long the snake will last—it might even disappear before you wake up. If this happens, we should know just in that you are not experiencing visions but also not waking up with a mark—and we must make corrections as soon as possible."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It could be better, but it could be worse, too—if it weren't for Severus, there wouldn't even be a potion. "Thank you, Severus. This means a lot to me. You didn't have to go to the trouble, you know."

"Yes I did, Harry." Severus cupped Harry's chin and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. "You needed it." Severus smiled. "Anyways, I had an excuse to invent a new potion, so it's not like you're the only person benefiting."

Harry grinned. "Of course—the Slytherin side of you needed to find how it would benefit yourself, didn't it?" Harry and Severus both laughed, though they both knew that even if Harry were the only person in the world Harry to reap the benefits from this potion, Severus would have made it anyways.

"Severus, thank you. Thank you so much." Harry bounced. "I have to go tell Ron! He'll be so happy—he was tired of having to wake me up every night; he complains about his 'beauty sleep'—I don't think any amount of 'beauty sleep could help him!"

Severus laughed. "I'm glad I can help your friends, as well. Go let them know. I need to file paperwork on the potion, anyways."

Harry ran out the door, feeling a little low for leaving Severus—he knew he shouldn't leave, but he couldn't stay just right then. Over the past few weeks, the internal knowledge of his love was growing to be too much a burden—at times, he just wanted to burst out and profess his undying love to Severus. But he knew better—these things were important, and not to be rushed into. Though Harry knew he wouldn't change his mind, he wanted Severus to know he was serious. His point would not be conveyed very well if he just burst out with the words, and Severus would be much less inclined to believe him. That was why he had to leave—what Severus did made Harry so close to the bursting point that he was about to shout it out to the world—and that wouldn't be very beneficial. He didn't want Severus to know quite yet—also because he was afraid—terrified—of being rejected. Not that he believed he would be…the fear just wouldn't go away. So the best way not to tell Severus was not to be around him—therefore, his hasty departure. Severus would understand soon enough.

Harry, true to his word, rushed to tell Ron and Hermione immediately.

"You won't believe what just happened!" Harry said enthusiastically, slightly out of breath from his race up the stairs (hey, he had energy from all his pent up feelings—he had to release that energy somehow, didn't he?).

His friends turned a curious head, though they were still somewhat preoccupied with their game of chess (though it had just started, it was clear Ron already had a strong advantage over Hermione—he had her queen, through a stupid move she made early on). "What?" Hermione prompted.

"Severus," pant, "has done something," pant, "amazing!" Hermione's attention was fully caught, as was Ron's—though he was loathe to admit it, he was beginning to accept how fully enamored Severus and Harry were with each other.

"What!" Hermione said, this time a bit more enthusiastic.

"You know my visions?" Hermione and Ron both nodded—Ron's with a bit of a grimace. He had made a vow to always be there for his friend, and that included visions, so he was there—but that didn't mean he enjoyed staying up half the night trying to make sure Harry didn't somehow end up harming himself or another person while having a vision. "Severus has made a potion to help!"

Harry explained everything about the potion—good and bad. Hermione looked shocked and thoughtful, amazed that Severus was both that talented and that thoughtful and probably wondering what ingredients Severus used to make the potion and how she could weasel the information out of him. Ron was just shocked (and a little relieved—he was all for the idea of getting more sleep at night). He hadn't realized how much Severus cared for Harry, to spend that much time making a single potion—just because it _might_ help. What if it didn't work? He would have wasted all that time just to make something that didn't help at all…or could even harm Harry (which, if that were the case, Ron would have to have a serious 'discussion' with Severus—in which Severus might not live).

"Harry," Ron said, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"I've been a prick these past few days about Snape. Severus. I hadn't realized how much…he truly cares for you. I'll make an effort, Harry. I want to make an effort, if he's making this big of an effort for you."

Harry smiled warmly—today was just full of surprises. "Thank you, Ron."

Hermione looked ecstatic. "Great! Why don't you take a break from kicking our buts, then, Ron, and go try your hand with Severus tonight."

Ron's eyes bugged. "Wha—? No, I couldn't. I said I would make an effort, but that's a bit bloody much, don't you think?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Nope! We're all going to go down tonight. Harry, would you let Severus know through an owl? Tell him we'll be down in half an hour, as long as he's not too busy."

Harry smiled—he knew Severus wouldn't be too busy, and he knew Severus wouldn't mind. He bounced off to send the news via Hedwig, then met Ron and Hermione in the common room about twenty minutes later. They walked jovially down to Severus's chambers. Ron looked incredibly nervous and a little sullen, but he had become more enthusiastic (well, more willing was a better word—he wasn't exactly the picture of enthusiasm) when he heard Severus was a chess player—and quite good at it, too.

Severus greeted them at the door. He had already set up the chessboard, and there were snacks on the table. "Harry. Hermione. Ron. It's nice of you to come down here—I was just wondering what I would do."

Ron looked at his feet nervously. "Yeah. It was Hermione's idea."

"Come in. I've ordered snacks from the House Elves—I just asked what you three normally eat, and they gave me this. I hope it's too your liking."

Ron's eyes brightened considerably when he saw the snacks—there was an assortment of chocolates and cookies, a bit of Butter Beer, and just about everything else he enjoyed eating. This might not be so bad. Plus, a good game of chess could never hurt.

"Thank you…Severus." Severus did not miss the hesitancy or the fact that Ron had used his first name, but he did not point it out—there was no point in making Ron more uncomfortable than he already was.

"It is nothing. Hermione, would you play a game of chess with me?"

Harry and Ron watched as Severus systematically beat Hermione once again. It didn't take very long—not more than fifteen minutes—but even Harry could tell Hermione had improved against Severus…if only a little.

"Bloody hell, that's why she's getting so much better!" Ron exclaimed after the game, leaning against the couch on the floor near where Severus and Hermione were playing. "She had almost become a challenge this past week—though if you're playing with Harry, he doesn't show any of it."

"Why thank you, Ron…I think. Wait—'almost' a challenge? What do you mean? Did you _let_ me win yesterday?" Hermione glowered at Ron, and he cowered before the almighty wrath of the pissed off female.

"Uh…Well, you seemed so depressed that you weren't winning anything…and…would you like a truffle? They're really good," Ron tried. Harry laughed at his horrible attempt to change the topic, and Hermione only glowered more.

Severus chuckled. "In the future, Ron, I advise playing a fair game—no matter if Hermione seems depressed or not." Ron nodded his consent, not even taking the time to be nervous that Severus was speaking to him or realize that Severus had laughed—he was too preoccupied with thinking of escape plans if Hermione decided to jump him and kill him off where he sat.

"Severus, Ron—why don't you two play a game?" Harry suggested after a few moments of stony silence—Harry wasn't entirely sure of Ron's safety, so he figured it a good idea to distract Hermione while it was still possible.

"Brilliant idea, Harry!" Ron said, taking the opportunity as it came. "May I?"

Hermione removed herself sullenly from the seat, still giving the Female Death Glare™ to Ron—Harry was currently more important than her lying boyfriend, so it was better if her lying, cheating boyfriend was allowed his bonding time/ice breaker time with Severus…he would pay later.

Ron sat down and picked Severus's right hand, which held a black pawn. He set up the black pieces expertly, taking no more time than was necessary to grab each piece and place it in the corresponding position. Severus set up his side of the board just as agilely, never misplacing a piece or pausing to think where it went. Harry looked on in awe—it still took him five minutes to set a board, and that was usually with his opponent helping him finish out of the frustration of waiting for him to get it right. It took Ron and Severus, however, under a minute to set up their respective sides of the board—combined.

The game progressed slowly, each move thought out carefully. For the first half-hour, it wasn't clear who had the advantage. They traded queens after about ten minutes, and they were pretty evenly matched the entire game—Ron had one bishop and both horses of Severus's, and Severus had a bishop, a rook and a horse, as well as two pawns.

After forty-five minutes of silent playing (Ron and Severus would shush Hermione and Harry every time they began to open their mouths, so after fifteen minutes they decided to watch, eat, and be quiet—the last part being the most important), Ron and Severus were down to their respective kings, a rook each, and two pawns.

Ron took one of Severus's remaining pawns and put Severus into check. Severus deliberated, then moved his rook directly in front of his king. A few more evasive moves ensued. Then Severus ended up taking both of Ron's pawns in three moves, and Ron's rook was in danger of being taken as well. He tried everything, but he couldn't move his rook without putting his king into check. He did the only thing he could do, though it didn't save his rook—he took Severus's rook with his own king. His rook was sacrificed, but Severus only had a pawn and a king; if he could last forty moves, he would stalemate Severus, and the game would be a tie.

Little did he know that Severus was an expert at checkmating with only a pawn and a king. After fifteen moves, Severus had backed Ron into a corner where Ron could not move due to the king (one king cannot be in a space adjacent to another king) and was in check due to Severus's pawn.

"Checkmate. Good game," Severus said, the only word in more than thirty minutes.

Ron stared at the board, not believing he had just lost—he hadn't lost a game in longer than he could remember. This was…unbelievable.

"That was bloody amazing, Severus. Good game."

"Yes, a very good game. I haven't had that much of a challenge in chess in years. You almost had me—you should have taken my bishop when you had the chance, instead of putting me in check. I think it would have tipped the scales the other way."

"Or maybe I could have traded that rook early on for my horse. That might have worked, too."

Severus thought for a moment, then nodded his agreement. "Yes, that probably would have helped, especially if you could have gotten my bishop as well with the following move—I think it would have been left open, though I would have to see the board again to be sure."

Hermione turned to Harry. "You know you're among chess-geeks when they discuss how the game could have turned the other way immediately after and can each remember exactly what move the other is talking about in the hour-long game they just played, when we can't even remember half of what they did."

Harry laughed and agreed. "I think we've created a monster, Hermione. They're never going to stop now that they each have a good opponent. Our respective boyfriends are going to be spending more time with each other, now, than they will with us."

Ron and Severus put the chess board away—it was late, and though none of them had to be anywhere tomorrow, Ron and Severus knew it would be rude to play another game and leave Hermione and Harry alone to entertain themselves. Who knew—if the fates decided to conspire against them, Harry could suddenly turn straight and Hermione might have a change of heart, and the two would run away to live happily ever after together. Then Ron and Severus would be left with only each other and chess to keep them company—not something either of them wished to risk. At the very least, Hermione and Harry would feel ignored and slightly perturbed at the end of the second game.

Ron leaned back in the chair he was in with Hermione sitting on the floor at his feet, their hands linked together, and Harry curled up on the couch with Severus. "You two are amazing chess players."

"I must say that was a good game. Ron, you'll have to come down again soon to play again. I could not predict how it would turn out—as we are evenly matched, I would not be surprised if you won. I'd like to see how the game would go."

Ron nodded. "I will take you up on that, I think." Ron blushed a little—he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of actually spending time with Severus. He would make sure to bring his friends, because he certainly didn't want to spend time alone with Severus—not quite yet. "It will be a relief to have someone to play who will actually challenge my skills. I have to admit that playing Hermione and Harry over and over again isn't exactly a challenge. Harry's tactics never change—take as many pieces as possible, even if it means sacrificing, your own," Severus laughed and nodded his consent, "and though Hermione tries different strategies all the time, they never quite work how she plans."

This time, Ron marveled at Severus—he laughed? He vaguely remembered it happening some other time this night, but that memory was tied in with the memory of the deathly fear for his life at the hands of a pissed female. Ron had never heard Severus laugh before, though he decided it wouldn't be a smart thing to bring up now. Still—it was amazing to think Severus was actually human beneath that dark, foreboding, life-threatening, and—above all—intimidating person that commanded full attention in Potions class. Severus, unchallenged at being the scariest most daunting person in the world other than Voldemort and possibly Lucius, was just a normal guy who laughed, joked, and played a damn good game of chess. This might not be as hard as he thought, Ron realized—it could be quite enjoyable getting to know Severus.

"You know, we _are_ sitting right here, you two," Harry said, poking Severus on the leg. "We can hear you, and we would enjoy participating in the conversation."

"I second that," Hermione said, sending a mini-death-glare to Ron, who decided that if he did not wish to incur Hermione's wrath yet again, he had better include her in the conversation.

So they changed the topic. Ron, Harry and Severus started talking about Quidditch—Ron was surprised to hear Severus had been a decent beater, though he had quit playing his fifth year (it had become to violent, and he had too much going on in his life), so Severus was quite knowledgeable in the subject and contributed to the conversation quite a bit. Hermione contributed where she could—which wasn't much. Though both her friends were absorbed with Quidditch all the time, the most she cared about the game was how it worked, so that she would know what was going on while she watched Harry play. She couldn't care less about this-and-that move, his-or-her trick, the latest broom, or how whatever team was doing in the World Cup standings. Instead, she enjoyed observing how Ron was opening up and becoming more comfortable—though he had quite a ways to go. He still flinched a little when Severus called him by name, and he tried not to call Severus anything so as to do away that problem altogether. He carefully avoided looking at how close Harry and Severus were so that he could pretend he didn't know that they were wrapped in each other's arms and acting so close. Other than that, it was going quite well, in Hermione's opinion. Quite well indeed.

A little after one, Hermione and Ron said their goodbyes. Harry told them he would be up in a little bit, and not to worry, so they went on without him. Harry and Severus stretched out on the couch for quite a while and kissed, content to be alone for a few minutes.

After ten minutes, Harry was resting his head on Severus's chest, and Severus was running his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry pulled his arms up from underneath him and propped his head up a little to look at Severus. "Sev, thank you. I can tell you're trying, and it's working out so well. Ron did really well tonight. He really enjoyed that game of chess."

Severus smiled. "Surprisingly, so did I. I've never been so challenged since I became an adult. It was nice to be on my toes again—I almost felt rusty. Playing you and Hermione so much lately has softened my moves a little."

Harry grinned playfully and rolled his eyes. Then he became serious again. "Severus…there's something I've been meaning to tell you lately. I…I just didn't want…I don't want it to backfire."

Severus's eyes became serious along with Harry. His hands paused in their path through Harry's hair, but when he realized that Harry was slightly uncomfortable, the fingers reassumed their task. He had found that Harry was always a little more comfortable when he was doing something little like that—rubbing circles in his back, fingers through hair, soothing strokes with his thumb on Harry's hand—things of that sort always made Harry feel a little better. "I'm sure that whatever you have to say will work out fine."

Harry nodded. "You have been so good to me, Severus. You made that potion, you've befriended Hermione and Ron, you've changed practically your entire life style, and so much more—all for me. It's daunting to think of how much you've changed, all because I'm in your life. Wow, that sounds really conceited of me, doesn't it?"

Severus shook his head. "Not at all. It was said bluntly, but it's the truth. I assume that's not all you had to say. Go on."

"Right. Well, you've done so much—and it all means a lot to me. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. On Christmas…with that picture…I realized something. You said you could tell how much my parents loved each other just by how they looked at each other—and when I looked at our picture, it seemed to me that the same look was in our eyes. That's when I knew…when I realized…" Harry was having a hard time with the words, but he wanted—needed—to say this. "I realized, Severus, that I love you. I've known that for a while, inside, but I didn't recognize the feeling until I saw our picture. I know it sounds incredibly cheesy and corny and stupid, but it's true. I want you to know that I love you and appreciate everything you do for me. I want you to know I appreciate how much you've changed for me—this night proves it. I couldn't imagine you playing a game of chess with Ron three months ago, but here you were—and you two had a lot of fun."

Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing—had he even heard right? Shocked, did the only thing he could think of to do. He leaned down and kissed Harry slowly, deliberately, and as passionately as was humanly possible. Along with getting an incredibly good kiss in, it was a wonderful way to stall and think of what he could say in response. The kiss, which lasted longer than he was able to count, gave him at least two full minutes to think of response.

"I love you, too, Harry." Of course, that was the best—only—thing he could come up with, and it sounded incredibly inadequate. Okay, he needed to elaborate—badly. "Yes, I've changed for you. But I don't regret it one bit. I like all the changes I've made for you, and if it weren't for you in the first place, I would still be sorely missing a good chess opponent. But you're right—that did sound incredibly cheesy."

Harry laughed and pecked Severus on the cheek. "I'm glad I finally said that—it's been building up in me for a while, now. I should probably go, huh? Ron and Hermione will get worried soon." They started making their way (slowly) to the door—hey, no need to rush, right?

"Yes. And Draco probably has a silent watch on my door—it will not do to give him ammunition, and if you stay much longer he won't need to search for something to torment you about. Thank you, again, by the way. I know how hard it is for you to not retort to his every remark or respond to his deliberate attempts to make you angry."

"Hey, an eye for an eye, right? I submit you to enduring my friends, and you submit me to enduring your godson."

Severus paused for a moment at the door of his rooms. "I'm pretty sure I got the better end of the deal." Harry and Severus both laughed. "Why don't you three come down tomorrow after dinner? The entire school returns the day after, I have that day reserved for finishing grading, and then classes start the day after that. We might not have a chance to get to know each other better—all four of us together, at least—for a while, so we had best take our chances while we can."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, right. You just want to play Ron at chess again, don't you?" Severus said nothing, but his eyes were laughing. "We'll be down right after dinner. Make sure to have more of those truffles, okay? They were good."

* * *

Author's note: Okay, I don't think that was _as_ mushy as the past couple times, though it was still incredibly…well…mushy. But, contrary to the other times, I don't think this one was overdone. Well, I hope not, at least. Let me know. 

Let's make a deal. If I get **30** **reviews** for this chapter, which shouldn't be too hard, I'll put some serious slash in the next chapter. I know that's a lot of reviews—but if you think about it, I've gotten between 20 and 25 reviews for the past few chapters, so it's definitely possible. I'm pretty sure there are that many people out there reading this story (hell, I have a hit-count thingy now, and over the past week, almost 1000 people have read this, without a recent update to get even more people to read it—so I _know_ there are that many people)—now you just have to actually hit that little review button down there. If there are more reviews, there might be more rewards, too. Go on, it's not that hard. You know you want some! (Of course, said slash will have to be emailed due to restrictions on content—but I'm sure you won't mind that part. Said slash may also have absolutely nothing to do with the story line…so yeah. Just letting you know ahead of time.) So! **30 REVIEWS! I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!**


	18. Burning Reporters

Author's Note: Due to my sudden awareness to the great number of people reading this, I will cut down on the length of my Author's Notes (thank you, hit-counter; btw, someone asked how to get a hit-counter: pay for the pro services on wonderful). Johnny has become frustrated with his sudden decrease of time in the spot light, but he will have to deal with it. **See my livejournal (abinikai) for all review responses.**

Disclaimer: Not mine. See previous chapters for details.

**IMPORTANT FOR SLASH: **If you want slash, you **must** **review** and **give** **me your email** in the review(seeing as I cannot post the slash itself on if I wish to keep my account). I learned my lesson with Chapter 11. I am not going to go **searching** for your email, and I am not going to **assume** that you want the chapter or not from previous reviews. If you have a problem with this, I am dreadfully sorry—but from the reaction I got (hey, I got more than 10 reviews extra than I asked for, okay?), I'm guessing I'm going to be sending a lot of emails. **I also ask for a statement that you are 18 or older, just for my peace of mind.** Thank you all!

Chapter 18 (Wow—18…I never thought I'd get this far)

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Harry was sneaking down to Severus's chambers; it had been too long since he had seen Severus, and he was antsy to at least talk to him. It had been almost a month since school had returned, and everyone had been busy—between the Order, Voldemort, School, the DA (which had been quietly reassembled with a slightly smaller number of people) and everything in-between, he and Severus had spent little time together. It was starting to wear Harry down, so when he received the note from Severus to join him that night, Harry had jumped at the opportunity.

Harry knocked on the door quietly, then opened it and slipped inside. Severus was sitting on the couch, drinking what was probably something mildly alcoholic, and reading what was probably some potions journal or other. Harry swept down upon Severus and gave him a firm, lasting kiss.

"It's been too long since I've done that," Harry said with a grin once they had broken for a breath of air. Severus didn't say anything, but he let a small smile show through.

"How are you, Harry?"

"Better now. It's been very busy lately."

"And how's Draco been treating you?" Severus asked.

"Not much better. I think he's accepted the idea of you and me together, but I don't think he likes any of it. He's been rude to me, but not worse than he was before."

Severus sighed, obviously frustrated with Draco's reactions. After countless arguments and lectures, Draco was still not cooperating. He had become cold towards Severus, and it was frustrating Sev to no ends.

"Enough about that depressing subject. What did you want me down here for tonight?"

"I just wanted to spend time with you. All my grading is done, and I was hoping you would have time to spend with me."

Harry grinned and sat on the couch next to Severus. "Of course! What would you like to do?"

Severus pulled Harry closer and began kissing him. Harry smiled into the kiss and reoriented himself so that he could get the full benefits. Harry let himself drown in the kiss, not caring where it did or didn't go. He was with Severus, and that was all that mattered.

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INSERT MASSIVE SLASH SCENE: MUST REVIEW GIVE EMAIL ADDRESS TO RECEIVE! **THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS!

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**

The next morning, Harry woke up wrapped inside the warmth of Severus's arms. He sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to Severus, letting the smell of their mingled sweat permeate to the core of his body. After a few moments, he realized they were in Severus's bed, snuggled under the covers. It was probably time for breakfast soon, but Harry didn't care—all that mattered was the warmth near him and the feeling it game him inside.

Severus woke up soon after and pulled Harry up for a kiss. "Morning."

"Morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did. How are you?"

Harry moved a little and winced. "A little sore, but nothing that can't be cured."

Severus picked up his wand from the bedside table and waved it. A clear bottle with a green liquid inside flew to his hands. "Drink this. It should help."

Harry downed the bottle and almost immediately felt the effects: all his muscles loosened and relaxed, and what felt like bruises became only a dull throb. "Thank you."

They lay in silence for a few more moments, then Severus got up. "We need to shower and get to classes. I think breakfast is almost over, so you need to hurry. I'll cast a cleaning charm on your clothes while you shower, if that's alright."

Harry nodded and stretched from the comfort of the bed. He didn't really want to move, but he knew he had to. He needed to get to class or fear the wrath of his teachers. It was already going to be hard enough to stay awake or sit still all day as it was.

The shower was a wonderful relief, and his clothes were waiting for him when he stepped out. He dressed and walked into the bedroom, where he found Severus already dressed and ready to go. Severus handed Harry his books and book bag, which he had summoned from Harry's room. "I put another vial of the painkiller potion you took this morning in your bag; don't take it until lunch, though. The potion you took should last until then, and there could be bad effects if you take another again so soon."

Harry nodded and stood on tiptoes to kiss Severus. "Thanks, Sev. See you in potions."

Harry slipped out of the room and walked stealthily down the corridors until he felt he was far enough from Severus's chambers so as not to arouse suspicion. Hermione shot him a curious and reprimanding look as he slipped into a chair next to her in Transfiguration. Ron was red-faced and refused to look at Harry; though he had become accustomed to the idea of Harry's relationship with Severus, he was still embarrassed about it at times.

Harry went through the day in a daze, not really noticing much of anything. He was even out of it for most of potions, which came right after lunch. Severus smiled at him once in class, but he left Harry alone for the rest of the class. Class was over all too soon for Severus's taste—next he had third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and though they tended to be well behaved most of the time, they were all thick in the head and virtually useless.

"Potter—why are you not paying attention to the lesson? Stay after class. We must discuss your inattentiveness in this class." He may as well give himself a little reprieve, right? "Class dismissed."

Harry nodded, doing his best to look glum and failing miserably at it. Luckily, no one was really paying attention to whether or not Harry was angry, depressed, or too happy to be sane; they were all too absorbed with leaving the room to care about much of anything else.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as the rest of the class drained out of the room; he then jumped up from his desk and followed Severus into his office. Harry jumped Severus as soon as the door was closed, kissing him furiously. After a few moments of hard kissing, Harry pulled back. "Hello, gorgeous. What were you wishing to reprimand me about again?" he asked impudently.

Severus let out a low chuckle. "You, Potter, are failing to pay attention in class."

"Really? Because I was paying attention to you, I swear—well, not to what you were saying, but I was paying attention to you none-the-less."

Severus smiled and kissed Harry yet again. "Off to class, before you're too late. Will you come down after dinner tonight? You can invite Ron and Hermione, too. Why don't you all do your homework in my chambers?"

Harry nodded. "I'll mention it to them. I'm sure Ron, at least, will be glad for a change of scenery. He's beginning to feel trapped in the Gryffindor common room—Hermione's becoming more determined to have us study, now that it's our sixth year and all."

"That's good of her, you know. I'll have to thank her for making you keep up with your studies."

Neither Harry nor Severus saw that a third-year Hufflepuff had already entered the room.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione all headed down to Severus's chambers with their books, chatting amiably. Harry knocked lightly and opened the door; this was going to be a wonderful evening.

At least, that was what he thought until he saw Dumbledore and Severus standing in the room, worried and fearful looks on both their faces. "Harry. I see you made it down here without an incident. I hope I am not too presumptuous to intrude on your evening with your friends and Severus, but something dire has happened."

Harry looked to Severus, but Severus would not return Harry's look. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"I fear there has been a small problem regarding your…relationship with Severus." Dumbledore waved his hand; a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ appeared in front of Harry. The _Evening Prophet_ was a less-read edition of the Daily Prophet; the only reason people ever read it was for breaking news not in the morning edition, and to sometimes see if any new news had been found since that morning. Not many people read it, though.

This edition, though, would be a top-seller, Harry could tell.

_Breaking News: Boy-Who-Lived in Romantic relationship with Teacher/Death Eater!_

Hermione clutched Harry's hand and led him to the couch before he collapsed. Harry could barely read the words on the paper, but he already knew most of what the article would say. Still, it was better to read on and know—for sure—what the article said than to make a semi-blind guess at what people were thinking..

_Just after lunch today, an unnamed source informed the _Prophet_ that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and our Savior, was found to be involved in a romantic relationship with his teacher and former Death Eater, Severus Snape. They were found to be kissing passionately in Professor Snape's office just after class._

_Though Professor Snape has been formally pardoned for his actions during You-Know-Who's first reign, his current allegiances are not known. However, our sources say he still works for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and is one of the higher-ranking members. _

_Two theories seem to be popular right now: the first and most likely is that Professor Snape has placed the Boy-Who-Lived under a spell so as to lure him into his master's clutches. The second theory believes that our Savior has actually turned against the Wizarding World and joined forces with You-Know-Who. In either situation, the wizarding world is doomed_.

Harry gave it this: the article was short and to the point. However, it was highly inaccurate and poorly written in Harry's opinion. Harry sank into the couch, pale as death. Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry and began to cry. Ron just stood in shock.

Dumbledore sat in the chair across from Harry and leaned forward. "The Ministry of Magic, which will have representatives here tomorrow morning. The Ministry wishes to conduct an investigation concerning the relationships of our teachers and students here at Hogwarts, as well as an investigation of Severus to ensure that he is not, in fact, a Death Eater. There is nothing we can do to contain this information as is, so I have arranged for a small press conference tomorrow morning. I hope this is all right with you?" Harry nodded listlessly.

Severus sat down in an armchair. "I am sorry this information leaked out, Harry."

Harry jumped up, feeling enraged for the first time. "Don't be sorry, Severus. We have done nothing wrong; it was only a matter of time before everyone found out."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "I have checked our rulebooks once again; there is nothing outlawing a relationship between a student and a professor, as long as the student is sixteen or older. Though much of the world will not approve, it is not against the rules. Hogwarts will stand by you for this ordeal; though it may be hard at first, we will get past this."

Harry nodded and sank further into the comfort of Hermione's encircling arms. He was pale, and obviously about to cry. Ron sat next to Harry and patted his shoulder awkwardly. "No worries, mate. This is nothing compared to a couple years ago."

With that, Harry burst into tears. He didn't want a repeat of that ordeal—the absurd articles, the mail, the people. He just didn't want it. He hated that fame, and he didn't want people to judge him just because of what some stupid reporter wrote in a stupid newspaper due to some stupid student who saw something he shouldn't have. This wasn't what he needed—Voldemort was becoming bolder (the _Prophet_ had finally recognized his re-emergence two months ago, though Fudge still attempted to deny it for week or so), and school was getting harder—and this topic was so much more controversial and so much more dangerous than the others.

Silence reigned while everyone thought of what was to come; that quiet was broken, however, when Malfoy barged through the doors. "I see you went and got caught, Potter. Smooth going."

Ron jumped up. "You're one to talk! You're probably the 'unnamed source' that gave them information!" Ron lunged at Malfoy, but Harry stopped him.

"Ron, don't bother. He may not like us, but he wouldn't give away his godfather," Harry said tiredly. Ron, still red-faced and fuming, reluctantly sat down again.

Draco smirked at Ron. "See, Weasel? I'm innocent, and even Golden-Boy backs me up."

Harry turned a tired look to Draco. "Please, Malfoy. Not tonight. Any night but tonight."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. I'll have the rest of eternity to hold this over your head. Actually, this wasn't the reason I came here tonight." Draco turned to Severus. "May I talk to you?"

Severus waved around them. "Go ahead. I assume the Headmaster will need to hear this, too, so it's no use for you to say it twice. They won't tell anyone," Severus said, meaning Harry, Hermione and Ron.

"Father has asked me back, on one condition. I assume you know what that condition is." Severus nodded.

Harry realized he wasn't technically supposed to know what Draco was talking about, but he had just been reminded of something urgent. "What about Severus's position as our spy, Headmaster? He gave us information we can't go without." Harry was more worried for Severus's safety, actually—if he returned, there was no telling what Voldemort would think.

"We have already decided that Severus will not return to his position; it is too dangerous for him, and if he was discovered by anyone not a Death Eater, we would not be able to convince the public that he or you did not have evil intentions. It will be hard enough as is." Harry was relieved. He didn't think he could deal with the added stress of knowing Severus would still return to that bastard.

The Headmaster was quiet for some time, but it was obvious he was thinking. Eventually, he turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I have a proposal for you; however, you must think this through carefully. It has to be your decision, though; feel free to turn it down."

"You want me to return to my father on his conditions and be your little spy, don't you?" Draco stated.

Severus stood up. "I will _not_ let that happen, Dumbledore. Draco is a student—he is not even eighteen. I could not submit someone to that."

"Severus, you know very well that you were our spy at his age."

"Exactly my point—I will never, ever let another student go through that if I can help it—least of all my godson."

Draco stepped forward. "Severus, I think it's my choice. I have already decided that I will. You need a spy for the Light side. I want to help defeat that bastard, even if that means being on the same side as Potter, here."

Dumbledore nodded. "It _is_ his choice, Severus."

"I know what I'm getting myself into, Severus. I can do this," said Draco.

"No!" Severus shouted. He couldn't contain his rage—first the article, and now his godson was being forced into the position that had come close to ruining his life entirely. "I will not allow it!"

Harry turned to Draco. "Before you decide, Malfoy, you have to really understand. I know you think you do, but you have no idea. He tortures people for fun. You have no idea some of the things I've witnessed and even felt. I've seen innocent muggle children killed for sport. He puts his members—his own followers!—through torture every night. His favorite is the Cruciatus, and he'll put that spell on you for hours. I've seen things you could never imagine. If you think you can do it, there's nothing I can do to stop you. But please—I don't want another person hurt on my behalf."

Draco scoffed and looked down his nose at Harry. "You think I'm doing this for you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think you're doing it for yourself. I think you're doing it so that you'll know exactly which side you're on. I think you're doing it to be able to say you helped defeat the darkest wizard that ever lived. But I want you to know what you're getting yourself into. I know I can't tell you not to help, even if I wanted to—and I do want to, if only for Severus's piece of mind. But you have to realize—if something happens to you out there, I don't Severus would be able to forgive himself, and I don't think I could forgive myself, either."

"Thanks for your advice, Potter, but I don't need it. I know perfectly well what I'm getting myself into and why." Draco turned to Dumbledore. "I'll contact my father tonight and tell him I accept."

Severus sank back into his chair. There was no convincing the Headmaster that this was wrong, he knew; he just wished he could convince Draco to say no.

"Thank you, Draco. You will be a great help to this war and the defeat of Voldemort. You should return to your room and sleep some before tomorrow; I assume your father will wish to induct you as soon as he can, which will probably be this weekend. We should prepare tomorrow night."

Draco nodded and turned to leave. "Good night, Severus, Headmaster." The door shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence.

Ron scowled after a few minutes. "That arse. He didn't even say goodnight."

Hermione shrugged. "Who cares? He probably has a lot on his mind right now."

Harry nodded. "Severus, are you alright?" Severus didn't answer, so Harry got up and walked over to him. He hugged Severus, feeling a little awkward with the Headmaster and his friends there. "It will be alright, Severus. I'll keep close track of my visions, and nothing will happen to him," Harry whispered into Severus's ear. He knew Severus felt responsible to Draco, and he knew Severus considered Draco more of a son than anything else in the world.

The Headmaster stood up and cleared his throat. Harry pulled back and stood next to the chair Severus was in, a slight tint in his cheeks. "Sorry, Headmaster."

"Yes, well, as long as you don't repeat that display of affection at the press conference tomorrow, we should be okay." Harry's face darkened once again; he had forgotten about that. It would be a long day tomorrow. "I will see you all in the morning. I am sure you all still have homework, and I am sure your teachers will want it completed tomorrow despite tonight's numerous events." Dumbledore left, and silence ruled once again.

After a few minutes of no one moving, Hermione finally jumped up and got their backpacks from beside the door, where they had been dropped earlier. "You heard the Headmaster; we still need to work. And don't think that you two are getting out of the time table tonight; I made that schedule, and you two are going to stick to it."

Ron groaned. "'Mione, come on! Those stupid exams aren't for a few months yet. We'll be fine!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are not going to cram the week—the night!—before, if I have anything to say about it. Get to work, Ron."

Harry silently took his bag and sat down at Severus's feet, letting Hermione and Ron have the couch for homework. He leaned against' Severus's legs for the night, not saying a word. He used his work to distract him, even though it didn't help very much. Anything was better than thinking about what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

Harry woke, but he didn't get out of bed. Maybe if he stayed there all day, he would wake up again tomorrow to find that it had all blown over already and no one cared. Of course, he knew he couldn't do that. Harry got up reluctantly and made his way to the Great Hall. He sat down just in time for the mail to arrive.

There were at least twice as many owls as usual, about half carrying two or more letters—but Harry wasn't really surprised. For a week, at least, it would be like this. The owls were pretty evenly split between Harry, Severus, Dumbledore and the rest of the school combined. Almost everyone received the newest edition of the _Daily Prophet_, which had essentially the same article as last night's on the front page. Harry skimmed it to see if there was any new information, then incinerated his copy and (on accident) half the copies around him. He blushed and murmured his apologies—he was letting his anger get the better of him, he knew.

Those Harry considered his true friends gathered around him immediately, choosing to wait until Harry filled them in before believing a single word of what was being said. Those people included Neville, Seamus, Dean, Thomas, Ron, Hermione, and a few others. They stood defensively around him, shooting dark looks at anyone who dared whisper about or point to Harry, and they fended off quite a few people who had the nerve to approach him. Harry was grateful more grateful than they could imagine; he told them that he would explain before lunch was over, if only they were patient, and they all nodded. Harry knew he could trust them not to make judgments against him before them, so he turned his full attention to more pressing matters.

Harry looked warily at the pile of letters in front of him. He could see quite a few howlers, and a lot of others that looked as if they might have curses or something else just as nasty attached. Harry looked up at the headmaster, who had already sent his letters to his office with a flick of his wand. Severus looked balefully at his own stack, then waved his wand and incinerated most all of them without even a thought as to what they may or may not have contained (Harry assumed he had already sorted through the senders to find if there were any he wished to read—it appeared that only two or three were worth even looking at, and Harry felt he could safely assume at least one of them was from the Ministry). Severus's letters would be more predictable than the ones Harry received, of course. Some of Harry's would be supportive; others would be flaming. Still more would be indifferent or curious, and he figured he could find a couple love letters in there somewhere—from both the males and females.

Harrypulled the Howlers first, which were the easiest to identify with their bright red envelopes; since they could not be destroyed without causing a commotion, they could wait until he had a silencing charm placed before being opened. He then incinerated all letters that smelled—both sweetly and sourly—for they would be the love letters and those with a less-than-benign intent, and were not even worth looking at. He pulled out the ones from the Ministry, the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks and multiple others from friends, for he would have to respond to those. The others would be the ones that he must read, if only because he wished to see if there was anything worth knowing in them.

Harry stacked the letters in neat piles according to whatever category they fell in; he completed all this with a calm, determined, precise air. His movements were slow and calculated, and his face was a mask of indifference. He was ignoring all the whispers and pointing fingers entirely, and he refused to look anyone in the eyes. By the time he was finished, it was time for class. He had McGonnagal first. He waved his wand and sent the piles to his room; he would start opening them during lunch, and probably have to finish later that night. He had learned in times past that if he didn't open them as he received them, the piles would only grow and grow until he was overwhelmed. The only reason he did not burn them all as is was that every once in a while, something useful showed up in the letters. It was also nice to see that some people—no matter what the _Daily Prophet_ decided to print—supported him no matter what.

Harry arrived in the Transfiguration classroom a little before the bell rung in hopes that the room would be fairly empty, but he was out of luck; almost the entire class was already present, and they were all gossiping loudly. Some were talking about how they had been suspicious, and others noted loudly that Severus had been a lot nicer to Harry lately, and it was probably the only reason Harry was passing potions. Still others were defending Harry, saying that even if he _was_ having a relationship with a Professor, it wasn't their business (Hermione was attempting to defend Severus, but was failing miserably). Harry sat down tiredly between Harry and Ron; the rest of his friends were in front and behind him, forming a protective barrier around him.

Professor McGonnagal swept into the room and tried to start the lesson, but few even noticed she was there. Frustrated, she cast a charm so her voice could be heard three classrooms down the hallway and commanded quiet. When everyone had settled down, her voice returned to normal. "Now," she said, a bit ruffled, "I will have you know _right now_ that I will not take any more misbehavior in my class. Any talking out of turn or passing notes will result in immediate loss of house points, no questions asked—even if you are not discussing the article from this morning."

The class, thoroughly intimidated, calmed down and stayed calm for the remainder of the period. The only sounds in the room were McGonnagal's voice and the scratching of quills as notes were taken. Harry was grateful for the period silence, however short it may be; he let his mind drift a little to the large stack of letters waiting for him on his bed, and he felt overwhelmed. Harry couldn't help but notice that, though everyone was quiet, he was still receiving looks from his classmates—both accusatory and curious—throughout the period.

Harry rushed out of the room as soon as the lesson was over, his group of friends surrounding him. The rest of his classes were similar; Professor Trelawny made more predictions than usual, and all were even more gruesome and obscene than normal; Flitwick cast a charm so that any notes passed would immediately appear on his desk in the front of the room and that anyone attempting to discuss the article form the _Daily Prophet_ would be rendered silent for an hour; in Herbology, anyone caught discussing the article was sent straight to the Headmaster with an immediate loss of points. Harry thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have Potions that day—though that meant he had Double Potions with Slytherin first thing the next morning, which he didn't like the thought of.

When Harry saw Severus at lunch, he looked worn out. He glared at all the students, as if daring them to say anything—even if it had nothing to do with the _Prophet_. Harry winced when he thought of the amount of points lost, the number of detentions given, and the general atmosphere of Severus's classes that day.

Harry took ten minutes before lunch to explain everything to his friends. Hermione and Ron sat quietly in the back as Harry told his friends everything. When he finished, Harry braced himself for the worst—that the rest of his friends would leave him, and he would be left with Hermione and Ron.

Everyone was quiet for a while, then Neville spoke up. "We all knew you were a bit quirky, Harry—but Severus? That's a bit more kinky than even I could have thought."

Everyone burst out laughing, and the tension was relieved. Dean pulled Seamus close to him. "I assume this means everyone will take our relationship well?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dean, we've known you and Seamus have slept together for at least a year now. You two could take the precautions to be just a little quieter every once in a while, you know."

Dean, at least, had the decency to blush, at least, but Seamus laughed and pulled Dean in for a kiss. "It feels wonderful to be able to do that at last!" Everyone laughed again.

"Well, it definitely explains why you've been disappearing at night, Harry," said Dean.

Harry blushed. "Yes, well, we can't see each other a lot."

"I _knew_ something else was going on in those meetings you two had at the beginning of the year!" Thomas said. "It was just too suspicious when you went down there without complaining."

Harry smiled at everyone. "Thanks for understanding, guys. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Seamus rested an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Hey—who says we're doing this for free? We're getting something out of this, right?"

Dean smacked Seamus. "Yes. You're getting Harry's friendship, respect and gratitude. You can't make a profit from everything, Seamus." Seamus pouted, and everyone smiled. "Harry, you know we would support you, no matter what. It doesn't mean we're not a little weirded out—it is Snape, after all—but we won't drop you like half your _fans_ that run at the slightest threat of actually committing to supporting you.

* * *

Harry nervously twiddled his thumbs. The press conference Dumbledore had arranged was about to start. Harry had been able to talk to Severus just before, and things weren't looking good. His classes had been completely uncontrollable that day, though that was to be expected. He had continued to get howlers and letters the entire day, and he was tired of seeing owls. Harry looked across the table at him, and he could see the lines of frustration, worry, weariness and anger that creased his face. Harry figured his face looked about the same.

Dumbledore called attention to the front of the small classroom, which had been commandeered for the use of the conference. "I have something to say before we get started. Severus and Harry are fully supported by Hogwarts; I have checked the rules ten times over, and there is nothing written against them. They have done absolutely nothing wrong."

With that, the hands went up. "Severus, are you still a Death Eater? What potion or spell did you use to influence Harry? Harry, do you really love him? Are you experiencing the effects of a spell or potion? Have you turned to the Dark Lord? What do you have to say to your fans?"

Harry was angry—no, furious. They were assuming everything and understanding nothing. "I believe I can answer all your questions without hearing them, and I'm sure Severus will agree. I am not under a spell, potion, or some other influence. I am not a Death Eater, and I have no intentions of becoming one; Severus is not a Death Eater, either. Yes, I really love Severus. My "fans" should know that I am still the same Harry Potter as I was yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. If they have lost faith in me just because they have discovered some _personal_ information, then they are not really my fans."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, then the questions started again. "Are you sure you're not under a spell? What of your latest vision? If you two are truly in love, will you get married? How long have you been in a relationship? Severus, are you using Harry Potter for some purpose unknown to us?"

Harry sighed and shook his head, giving up. He had hoped that his statement would stop any questions that the reporters might have, but he should have known better. The damned vermin could never be satisfied, and they would never stop. Severus just said nothing, not even trying to fend off any accusations they had. The only thing he said was, "Yes, I love Harry Potter. No, I'm not a Death Eater. The rest is personal, and you have no business knowing it."

After half an hour of the reporters asking questions and not getting the answers they wanted, Dumbledore ushered them out of the room and out of Hogwarts. Harry leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes. "That was fun," he said sarcastically. "The best part? Since we didn't give them the information they wanted, they'll make it all up for tomorrow's article."

"Yes, quite fun. We should entertain those sneaky, low, inconsiderate snakes every day from now until the end of our lives. Or we could burn them all to a crisp right now and save ourselves the pain, trouble and time."

* * *

Author's Note: I vote option two: we should burn all the reporters. It's great stress relief. Thanks so much for all your reviews last chapter, and thanks in advance for any I get for this chapter. Remember: **If you want the slashy part of this chapter, you MUST—I repeat, MUST—submit a review and leave me your EMAIL address IN THE REVIEW.** Let me make that as clear as possible for anyone who does not yet understand: I am **not** going to look back on past reviews and assume you want the slash (even if you told me you wanted it in the previous review), and I am **not** going to look on your profile to find your email. You have to understand that I tend to have a lot going on, and this week looks as if it is going to be especially hectic (I have a cow show this weekend, and will be gone from Wednesday afternoon to Saturday afternoon; if you would like a picture of my cow, visit my profile—she's such a sweetheart). **Please cooperate with me and make things easier for me—if you want it that badly, it won't be that hard to help. **Thanks so much! Oh, and Johnny says hi. 


	19. Death by Spoon

A/N: In short, I love you all. I never thought it possible to get so many reviews (86!) for one chapter—it was always something that happened to other wonderful authors that I read, but never me. However, you all have shown it possible…and you have also shown there is a great…demand for slash. I never would have guessed.

Johnny: I would have. And I did. You just didn't believe me. If you want a disclaimer, see all of the previous chapters. There will be no responses to reviews posted on livejournal, as most of them have been replied to in emails. We apologize—but we don't have time to write responses for almost 80 reviews.

**IMPORTANT:** If you have not received your copy of the slashy-goodness from the last chapter, it was due to complications in emailing it to you. The biggest contributor was the review thingy; it did not post the ending of any emails—i.e., etc. The next biggest contributor was that the email did not work (I had to get most emails from profiles, and I think some of those are outdated). Therefore, **if you did not receive an email containing slash, please re-post your email in a review as follows (my email is an example): abinikai (at) yahoo (dot) com, OR email me yourself for your copy.** Thanks so much for being patient, and I am sorry for the complications.

Chapter 19

* * *

Harry ducked behind another corner and hid behind a nearby tapestry. A moment later, he heard a group of feet rush by—reporters. The damned rats hadn't left either him or Severus alone—ever. Dumbledore let them in once a week, just to pacify them, but he was threatening to stop even that if they continued to harass the students and faculty. If he didn't open the castle, they would come up with their own rumors and 'facts,' and neither Harry nor Severus wanted that—so they begrudgingly answered a few questions every now and then. However, lately they had been trying to pull Harry out of class to talk to him, corner Severus in-between classes (once they had tried to interrupt a class, and all four had left with flaming pink hair and a strange craving for burnt broccoli), and harassing them at any other time possible. Harry was getting frustrated, to say the least.

Harry peaked out from behind the tapestry and breathed a sigh of relief once he had made sure the reporters were gone. Harry continued his trek to Severus's chambers, hoping no one would catch him. He would be lucky if he got half way without seeing one a camera flash and a cloud of smoke or one of those damned notepads and quick-quote pens, to reporter was inevitably attached. Harry considered taking his invisibility cloak next time Dumbledore opened the castle to the public.

Halfway down the next corridor, Harry heard footsteps. He jumped into the nearest open classroom and shut the door behind him, breathing hard. He peaked out the window to see if he could leave—only to see it was Ginny, not some half-crazed (or fully-crazed) reporter. He let her pass since he wasn't much in the mood to explain why he was hiding in a classroom, then continued on his way. He felt bad for jumping to the conclusion that it would be a reporter around the bend, but he couldn't help it—they had been harassing him all day, and he was tired of it.

Harry was stressed—that's all there was to it. Between reporters, Voldemort, school, Draco (who was still being an ass) and everything else, he was on the point of breaking. His only comforts were the potion that made his visions milder (which had only a few, mild side effects and worked wonders to keep the effects of visions mild—at most, he would have a mild headache afterwards), Severus (who was being incredibly supportive, and had even verbally abused a couple reporters that were bugging Harry), and his friends (who were all being really supportive as well). Still, those comforts were few, and they were just about worn out.

The worst stress was definitely a contest between Draco and school. Ever since the school had found out about their relationship, his attitude had been even worse. Of course, part of it was because he couldn't even _seem_ to like either of them—not that he did, but this gave him an excuse—since that could be considered as treachery towards Voldemort. Since Draco was a reluctant newbie in the ranks of "almighty" Death Eaters, he was on think ice—he was the one most likely to be sent to menial tasks, and he was the most likely to be killed or tortured for subordination or spying or anything else of that sort.

School was just really hard. Harry was struggling a little in charms, and between Voldemort, Quidditch and all the other stuff he had to do, he was having a hard time getting his homework done every night.

But hey. Life went on, right? Harry was currently in Severus's chambers, catching up on a little homework in Transfiguration. McGonnagal, the understanding, wonderful teacher she was, had given him a small extension, and he didn't want to disappoint her by doing a shabby job or not completing it in the first place. Severus had left for some supplies for one of his newest potions, and would probably be gone until sometime the next day. He had lent Harry the room so he could get some peace and quiet to get homework finished—Harry was just grateful he wasn't in the common rooms, which tended to be impossible for the completion of homework.

It must have been one in the morning, and Harry was still working on homework (a Charms essay, now). He was in the middle of a sentence when someone burst through the doors. The only person who ever did that was Severus, which surprised Harry. "I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow?" he asked without turning.

When no one responded, Harry turned to see someone who was most assuredly _not_ Severus. "Malfoy—what are you doing here?" Harry asked. He couldn't keep the slight resentment out of his voice, which he regretted; he really was trying hard for Severus.

Harry stopped being resentful when he saw the look on Draco's face. It was…terrified. That was the only way to describe it. Draco's face were red and puffy, and tears were still streaming down his face. His hair was a tangled mess, and his hands were shaking—Harry could see them quaking, even from where he was sitting at the table. Draco's eyes were the most painful to look at, though—they were bloodshot and wide open, and the look in them was a combination of overwhelming terror and horror.

Draco collapsed in the doorway, unable to move himself further in the room. Harry rushed over—Draco was passed out. He checked the pulse quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when it was there—a little panicked, but it was strong. Harry picked Draco up and carried him to the couch (for a small guy, he was heavy). Harry arranged him so he would be a little more comfortable and went to get a couple potions from Severus's cabinet (he had recently been given permission to use the potions—within reason—whenever he needed them; he figured this was well enough within reason). He grabbed a calming potion, a headache potion, and a dreamless sleep potion. The only one he figured he would need was the calming potion, but he figured he would bring the others—just in case.

Harry had guessed right—Draco didn't remain passed out for long. From the look in his eyes, Draco might be having bad dreams for quite a while. Harry knew the feeling; the body wouldn't let one sleep for long when one was too stressed out, terrified, or horrified in any way. Draco shot up into a sitting position, his hands clutched in the couch, knuckles white—he looked as if he were about to scream, but he held it in.

Harry wordlessly handed Draco the calming potion, and once Draco realized what it was, he took it without a second thought—either he was mentally unable to be suspicious of what the potion might be, or he had become slightly more trustful towards Harry. Harry figured it was more likely the first, though he wished it were the second.

After a few deep breaths, the crazed look had left Draco's eyes and his hands were more relaxed. Harry sat on a nearby chair once he assumed he was no longer needed. He watched Draco carefully, aware that experiences with Voldemort were always terrible, and one calming potion wasn't always enough.

Draco didn't speak for a while, so Harry went back to his homework. If he wasn't needed, he didn't want to get involved—but he didn't want to look like he was deserting Draco, either, so he continued writing his essay on the chair, instead of at the table.

Draco spoke eventually. "Where's Severus?" he asked.

Harry looked up, a little surprised that first, Draco had spoken, and second, that nothing he had said had been scathing or rude. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes not really focusing on anything. Harry thought the look was a little creepy, but he wasn't about to say anything.

"He's out buying potions; he won't be back until early tomorrow," Harry said, equally as civil.

Draco just nodded, so Harry went back to his essay. A few minutes later, he spoke up again. "Have you…had visions…about Voldemort? They say you do."

"I had one last night. Severus recently made me a potion that helps with them, though, so they're not as bad as they used to be. Why?"

Draco shrugged. "I was just wondering if you've seen things that…horrible." Draco shuddered, but the calming potion did its work—he didn't have a break down, and Harry was relieved.

"Yes, I've seen horrible things." This time, Harry was the one to shudder. "Things that I don't particularly want to remember."

Draco didn't say anything—he just looked off into the distance with that same, creepy stare—so Harry returned to his essay. When he looked up again ten minutes later, Draco hadn't moved. He needed to be distracted, Harry knew—to be that absorbed in memories of _anything_ involving Voldemort was bad.

"Would you like to play some chess, Malfoy?" Harry had been about to call Malfoy by his first name, but he had figured that it would be best not to put him out of his comfort zone at the moment.

Draco was jerked out of his stupor suddenly. He looked at Harry with a slightly confused look, then nodded slowly, as if he didn't know what he was doing.

Harry got up to get the chess board, and returned to find Draco had moved the chair so it was opposite the couch. That was good—if he was moving; it meant he wasn't too shocked. Harry had dealt with this before—except that before, he had been the one so shocked he couldn't think of doing anything on his own. Ron had always been great at getting him distracted and animate, and Harry had always been grateful for it.

Harry hid two pieces, and Draco ended up being black. He handed Draco all the black pieces and set up his board. Draco set his side up quickly and skillfully—from the looks of it, unless Draco was far too out of it to be able to play chess, Harry was going to be beaten yet again. He was getting better, though—maybe he could hold his own?

Or not. It was a sound defeat on Draco's part. Harry hadn't even seen the end coming—leave it to a Slytherin to be tricky and checkmate with a pawn and a horse. Still, Harry couldn't complain—by the end of the game, Draco had almost completely returned to his former self. He was well enough by the end of it all, at least, to gloat.

"Looks like the Savior of the Wizarding World can't even play as simple a game as chess—wait until the world finds out."

Harry grinned, not even trying to pretend to be flustered at not being able to play chess. "I never played when I was younger, and it's only been recently that I have been able to hold my own."

Draco smirked. "You call that being able to hold your own? Wow, we're all doomed."

Harry let out a small laugh. "I suppose we are—if defeating Voldemort is anything like playing chess, I'll lose."

Draco's face went dark, and Harry immediately regretted what he had said. "No. Don't say that. If you don't defeat…him," Draco couldn't bring him to say Voldemort's name, no matter how hard he tried, "then we are _all_ doomed."

Harry nodded, much more solemn before. "Do you want to talk about it?" Draco shook his head. "Are you sure? It was always better for me to get it all off my shoulders. No one should have to endure anything that involves that bastard alone." Draco's eyes became unfocused as he stared at some point over Harry's shoulder.

Draco was silent for a long time, and Harry was about to change the topic of conversation for fear of Draco having a relapse into depression when he started talking. There was a faraway look in his eyes, as if remembering everything that happened, and Harry was tempted to distract Draco once again—but he had been right in getting this conversation started. Draco needed this off his chest.

"At first, it was a normal meeting. He discussed his plans to defeat you, bragged, talked of how horrible Mudbloods and Muggles are…but then it changed. He brought in a muggle woman, probably in her twenties…she was crying, and obviously beaten up. I think she had a broken arm, and she was bruised all over. He talked of how unclean and loathsome she was."

Draco shuddered; the memory was obviously trying. "I can remember wanting to leave—it was horrible. Everyone was cheering him on at the end of every sentence, as if what he were giving some impassioned speech, or some other big thing…but she was hurt, and scared, and obviously in shock. I forced myself to cheer…but I just felt bad for her." Draco let out a dry, unamused laugh. "I think that's the first time I've actually _pitied_ a Muggle."

Harry was tempted to reach out to comfort Draco, but he didn't—he sensed that Draco wouldn't take kindly to it, and he might stop talking, too. "Then he started hitting her with curses—little ones that wouldn't kill her, but were really painful. One that burned her. Another that cut off her air, so she couldn't breath. Another so she bled from every pore." Draco's voice was cracking. Harry watched with the strange fascination felt when you watch a bus crash—it's so horrible, and you want to turn away, but you just _can't_. It's as if it's not really happening—the people will walk out of the overturned bus just fine, with—at most—a bump on the head. But at the same time, just as with the bus, he knew it was all too real.

"Then," and Draco's voice caught, "my _dad_ tore off her clothes, and You-Know-Who was so happy, and he _raped_ her." Tears were rolling down Draco's cheeks uncontrollably. "She was scared! She probably had a family, friends, a job, a _life_. Then everyone else took their turn, but the Dark Lord was most pleased with my father…my own _father_…" Draco was sobbing now, unable to hold back any longer.

Harry reached over the chessboard and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Draco. No one should have to witness something that terrible."

Draco looked up, tears still streaming down his face. "…You said my name," he said slowly.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I did. Should I apologize?" he asked, half-jokingly, hoping it would help. Luckily, Draco leapt at the opportunity to distract himself.

Draco smirked. "Absolutely. Someone as _low_ as you should _never_ address someone as _wonderful_ as me by my first name." Harry could tell Draco was joking, and he smiled.

"I am sorry, Your-Highness-Queen. Will you ever forgive me?"

Draco's jaw dropped. "_Queen_? Where the _hell_ did you get that one! I am no QUEEN! I am an EMPOROR!"

"My apologies, Empress. I will not make the mistake again."

Draco's eyes were ablaze with mock-fury. "You are hereby sentenced to death by spoon."

"Oh no, the dreaded spoon," Harry said sarcastically. "Wait…spoon? A _spoon_? Where did you get that one?"

"I couldn't think of anything painful enough."

"Leave it to a Slytherin to be that…creative."

Draco grinned—actually grinned, not some self-satisfied smirk—and settled back in the couch. "Thank you. I pride myself on being able to come up with the most creative deaths."

That's when it hit Harry. He had just had a _friendly_ conversation with Draco. They had been joking, laughing, teasing…and not a single insult had been said (well, that wasn't true—but it was in Draco's nature to insult, and comparatively, they hadn't been bad ones). Harry decided to point it out.

"Do you realize we just had a civil conversation?" he asked.

Draco stopped to think. "It's all in your head, Potter," he denied—but Harry could see that Draco knew it, too. Harry smiled. Maybe being "friends" with Draco wouldn't be so bad after all.

Draco left a few minutes after, saying he needed his "beauty sleep." Harry silently handed him a Dreamless Sleep potion. Draco didn't say anything, but the gratitude was in his eyes. Harry smiled at the thought—Draco actually thanked him (without words, of course, because Malfoys are never grateful to anyone).

* * *

The next day in Transfiguration, Harry could sense the change. Draco acted no differently than before, of course—that might compromise his situation as a spy. But Harry could tell that the insults were more of a routine than entertainment. Of course, no other students noticed this—not even Hermione and Ron—but it gave Harry the most satisfactory pleasure imaginable.

That night, in Severus's chambers, Harry realized that one other person had noticed—Severus himself. "Did something happen between you and Draco?" he asked curiously.

Harry grinned. "Not really. He came back last night, and you weren't here. We played chess." Severus raised an eyebrow—Harry knew he wouldn't get away without at least a little explanation. "He was stressed after his meeting with Voldemort; he needed to be distracted. I should know—Ron used to be really good at distracting me after a vision. If I wasn't distracted…well, it wasn't good. In short, I became incredibly depressed, to the point of not eating, sleeping, moving, or otherwise living. After chess, we talked a little. We had a friendly conversation. He sentenced me to death by spoon. Not much else."

"Spoon?" Severs asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"That's what I said."

* * *

At the same time in the dormitories, Ron and Hermione were sitting across from each other on Ron's bed. They were both staring at their respective potions—both were trying to figure out what to do with them. Yes, make a wish—but what kind of wish? Money, happiness, beauty, fame…or something actually worthwhile? Hermione had convinced Ron to consider the worthwhile options, though all he had been dreaming of since Christmas was the best way to get rich and famous off the potion. Hermione wouldn't let him make his wish until she discussed it with him, either—she claimed he wasn't mature enough. Yeah, right.

"You got anything?" asked Ron after a few minutes of silence. He was tired of trying to think of "responsible" ways to use his potion.

"Not really. It's such a wonderful gift—I don't want to be rash in my decision…" Hermione twirled the bottle slowly in her hand, staring into the colors created when the light hit the liquid substance inside.

Ron was looking at Hermione—she was so beautiful, smart, funny, nice. He was completely enthralled with her. She was such a wonderful person. Just looking at her play with her bottle of potion, trying to decide on something "worthwhile"…the way her hair fell across her face, and the delicate way in which her fingers held the bottle. Her smooth cheeks and beautiful eyes…everything about her was so wonderful.

That's when Ron knew what his wish was. He downed the bottle before Hermione could realize what he was doing and stop him, and he concentrated on what his wish was. After a few minutes, he stopped concentrating, hoping he had done everything right. He opened his eyes to see a shocked Hermione.

"Ronald Weasley—what did you do? I told you not to be rash! You were supposed to consult me before you made your wish! You've probably gone and screwed it all up now. What did you wish for?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

Ron just smiled. "It's a secret. Don't worry; you would approve."

Hermione raised her eyebrows; Ron thought it was all too adorable, so he leaned across the bed and kissed her. "You are far too beautiful for my own good, 'Mione."

Hermione blushed. "Yes, well…I don't see what that has to do with the potion," she said, flustered.

"Oh, it has everything in the world. I love you, you know."

Hermione stopped. She looked at Ron. "What?" They hadn't said anything of the sort as of yet, and Hermione was shocked—why would he say something that could so drastically change their lives? Love was not something to be messed with.

"I love you. I know we haven't been together long, but I love you."

Hermione smiled. "I…I love you, too, Ron." She leaned across the bed and kissed him chastely. "But you should have told me what you wished for."

Ron smiled. He wasn't going to tell her. She didn't need to know that he wanted her to always be happy—whether or not it was with him or without. She didn't need to know that he wanted her to always smile and laugh. He just hoped his wish didn't interfere with the rules of the potion—it didn't mess with free will or love, he knew; it just asked that Hermione was always content with life. But you never know how finicky potions can be…Maybe he would tell her what he wished for sometime in the future. But not just yet. If anything, it was worth it just to see her squirm.

Hermione's wish was much simpler and much less dramatic than Ron's. She merely wished that she would have her two best friends forever—that Ron and Harry would always be in her life. She told Ron this, hoping he would feel obligated to tell her his wish, but he didn't—instead, he just kissed her again.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading (and reviewing!). I apologize for the long wait (and it was really long, wasn't it?)—I was really busy. And it's not going to get better, either. I apologize for any long waits in the future; I really don't want to keep you guys waiting.

Johnny: You know, you would be less busy if you didn't volunteer to do so much.

Me: Shut up. I didn't ask for your opinion, did I? You're a muse—nothing else. Your only job is to inspire me.

Johnny: Doesn't being your muse involve giving my opinion? **Remember: if you didn't receive slash for the last chapter & requested it, submit a review again with your email written as follows: abinikai (at) yahoo (dot) com, or, if an anonymous reviewer, in the review-box-thingy. Or email us. **We're happy to respond to anything.

And remember: even if you're not reviewing for slash, we love to hear what you think—write something, and we'll try to get back to you! **I LOVE YOU GUYS!**


	20. Too Good to be True

A/N: I do not think it possible to apologize enough for the lack of updates. I was having difficulties reaching a computer for any extended period of time, to say the least. Either I was out of state, out of country, or one of my friends decided it would be funny to take my floppy disk (cough, cough, ADAM). So…yes. "Lack of Computer" and "Lack of Time" are the excuses I'll stick to. That does not change, however, how incredibly sorry I am for keeping this from you…and the worst part? It could very well happen again. To let you know, it was your reviews that kept me going—I absolutely adore getting them.

Johnny: Or maybe you're just lazy. Note: she doesn't own anything Harry Potter related (well…except, for maybe, a couple copies of the books)—thankfully.

By the way, this is where the plot line picks up. Just to let you know.

Chapter 20

* * *

A month passed. Things between Harry and Draco did not get better, but they did not get worse, either. Rather, they leveled out. The insults never got better, but they never got worse. When Harry and Draco ended up in Severus's chambers together, they often played chess, but neither made it a point to meet the other.

Ron and Hermione's relationship was going well. They were becoming more in love with each other every day, though Ron still refused to tell Hermione what he had wished for. She eventually stopped asking, tired of his absolute refusal to talk. Every so often, they joined Harry in Severus's chambers—otherwise, they tended to keep to themselves, as many young lovebirds choose to do.

Harry and Severus, of course, flourished. They were able to work more times into their schedule to see each other—now that every one knew and the reporters had (for the most part) stopped pestering them, they no longer had to sneak around the castle. With a little schedule-juggling, Harry and Severus were spending more time than ever together, and they were enjoying every minute of it.

Of course, things were too good to be true. As a rule of thumb, things were bound to get worse. Harry knew something was coming—something big, and very bad. He hadn't had a vision in a long time, so Voldemort must be lying low; he wouldn't want to give himself away before the big attack. Harry was worried, but he had no reason to say anything to Severus or Dumbledore—there was absolutely no reason to be suspicious.

Harry was getting ready to go down to Severus's chambers. He grabbed his homework, a couple quills, parchment, and his wand. Hermione and Ron waved goodbye from their position at one of the tables in the common room, where they were doing homework and making lovey-dovey eyes, and Harry walked out the door.

Just outside the painting, it hit him—a searing pain in his forehead. Harry dropped all his things and clutched his forehead, bent in two. A sick feeling of happiness and cruelty washed over him, flooding out his own feelings. Harry's vision was flooded red. There was a house, a room—Death Eaters. Someone hurt—who? Voldemort—laughing—pain— Harry blacked out, only to wake up seconds later. Neville was shaking him, a worried look on his face.

"Harry, you all right?" he asked.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Harry said with a smile that was meant to be encouraging, though it fell short by a long shot. "Just don't feel well."

Neville looked apprehensive, but relieved—he wasn't sure he would be able to help if Harry had been in trouble, and he didn't want to find out. He helped Harry pick up his things, and then, blushing, he quietly asked, "Do you have the password? I was just at the kitchens and—"

Harry managed a weak grin. "Shouldn't you be over that problem by now, Neville? It's our sixth year! Oh well. The password is 'spoon.' See you around, Neville." Harry walked away, listening to Neville mutter about how strange and random 'spoon' was as a password.

As Harry turned away, his face immediately darkened. The pain—the feelings—the visions—they meant something. The vision potion was meant only to work at night, so the visions had broken through—but even so, they had to be strong visions to break his mental barriers when awake. What was happening, Harry didn't know. But it was bad, and they needed to do something immediately. Harry rushed down to Severus's chambers, knocked on the door frantically, then entered without an answer. Severus looked up from his book immediately, aware that something was wrong.

"Is there a Death Eater meeting right now?" Harry asked immediately. He was breathing hard from his sprint through the castle, and was just barely able to get the words out before nearly collapsing on the ground.

"Yes. Draco left about an hour ago. Why?"

Harry had to take a moment to breath before being able to answer. "Voldemort's in action. I don't know what he's doing, but it's bad. Someone's hurt."

Severus rushed to the fire and immediately relayed the message to Dumbledore. The Order was quickly notified to be on the lookout for Death Eater attacks. Dumbledore and Severus immediately began planning, using what little they knew to try to figure out what was happening and what Voldemort was planning. Harry knew it wasn't enough, though. This wasn't about an attack—the feelings he would have felt would have been more…cunning. The feelings he had felt, though—they had been pure joy. This involved a single person, not multiple. There would be no mass murder today. Harry knew enough about Voldemort to know it was much more simple than that—all Voldemort wanted was to lure Harry into a trap, somehow catch Harry off guard. But Harry knew it was a trap, whatever it was, so he wouldn't be caught off guard—the only question was…what was the trap?

Then it was obvious: Draco. Somehow, Voldemort knew Draco was a spy—maybe it was his plan all along. Forgive Draco, on the condition he become a Death Eater. His father knew Draco well—Lucius would realize Draco was closer to Severus than to him, and would, more than likely, become a spy. Let him take back small tidbits of information every once in a while, so no one gets suspicious, but never anything important. Wait until the time is right to use him to the Dark Side's advantage. Maybe lure Potter into a trap. Maybe just take revenge on Severus, for Severus was obviously close to Draco, and it would obviously hurt him deeply if Draco was hurt in the line of action. Maybe both. It all made so much sense, and Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't seen it before.

"Severus," Harry said, his voice quavering. All the blood had drained from his face, and it looked as if he might collapse any second. "Severus, it's Draco. He has Draco. I don't know how, but he's planned it all out."

Severus paled—though for him, there wasn't a great difference between 'normal' and 'pale.' "Harry, are you sure?" Severus knew it was true, though, even before he asked for confirmation. The moment Harry had said Draco's name, it all clicked—Draco was being used.

"I'm sure. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I'm not." Harry watched as the most hopeless look came across Severus's face, and he felt horrible—Harry didn't want another death on his conscious. He didn't want Draco to be hurt on his account—for if Draco was hurt, not only would Harry be unable to save another person, but Severus would be hurt. Harry hated that feeling.

Dumbledore was informed immediately, and the Order was set into action, but there wasn't a lot to be done. Until they knew Draco's location or situation, they wouldn't be able to do anything—until then, they could only plan out situations in their heads and hope that one might come in handy. All in all, it looked pretty hopeless, and Harry knew it…and by the looks of it, so did Severus.

Harry paced back and forth across Severus's chambers, annoyed at the inactivity of the Order. They weren't doing anything—they weren't even trying! Finally, Harry burst. "This isn't helping, Severus. Voldemort's not going to just send up a big flare that says 'Hey! I'm over here! Come kick my ass!' He isn't going to give us any information until he's sure he can get what he wants, and he wants a battle. He's not going to let us know where he is until I come out to fight, and the longer it takes me to do that, the more Draco will be hurt. We have to do something!"

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, wishing he had the energy to get a headache potion from the cabinet. However, the thought of moving was absolutely incredulous—he barely had enough energy to think, let alone move. "Harry, don't you think I know that? I'm just as worried as you, if not more. He's like my son, Harry. You know that. I don't want anything to happen to him. But there's nothing we can do right now—not until we have more information."

Harry handed Severus a headache potion. Severus briefly wondered if they had become so close they could read minds to know what the other wanted or needed, then decided he didn't care. He looked gratefully at Harry and downed the potion, thankful the pain was ebbing.

"Don't you see, Sev? We're not going to _get_ that information—not until Voldemort wants us to. And we have to actually _do_ something for him to give us that information." Harry wanted to scream, cry, and break something. He wanted to curse Voldemort to all damnation. He wanted to go out there and kick some serious ass. But this wasn't helping Severus's situation, so he was trying to restrain himself—and, from his point of view, failing miserably.

"Harry, we can't do anything until we are better informed and more secure with that information. Dumbledore will tell us when it is best to act."

Harry snapped. He slammed his fist on the table and let out a growl of frustration. "That isn't good enough! For all we know, Draco could dying! They're torturing him, I know—I saw it! Severus, you _know_ what it's like. So do I. Dumbledore, however, does not—granted, the old coot knows a lot, but he's never _witnessed_ what Death Eaters can do—what they _will_ do. He doesn't understand how bad it could get—how badly Draco could be hurt!"

"Harry. Calm down. I don't want to trust Dumbledore, either, but he's the only chance we have right now. Neither of us have the knowledge, the power, or the means to help Draco out. If we leave it to Dumbledore, he'll figure something out. Draco will be fine."

"I want Draco to be fine _now_, not at some indefinite point in the future. No one deserves to be subject to that kind of…experience. Ever. Not Draco, not anybody."

Harry stormed out of the room, heedless of any words Severus might have said after he left. All he remembered was that the door had slammed behind him, and he knew Severus hated it when the door slammed shut. Harry ignored that he was being immature and irrational as he stormed into the Gryffindor Common Room minutes later, eyes flashing. He didn't care about the repercussions—he had to act.

"Ron, Hermione. Can we talk? Now?" he said tersely, trying not to yell for fear of arousing unwanted attention. "Something's come up."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, then headed with Harry to the sixth year boys' dormitory. Once inside, Harry cast multiple silencing and locking charms to keep any intruders out.

"What's happened, Harry?" asked Hermione, worried.

"Draco's been captured. I'm not sure how, but Voldemort was using him." Harry was pacing around the room, ignoring the looks from his friends.

"I knew it!" exclaimed Ron. "He's been spying on _us_ the entire time! The bastard!"

"No, Ron," Harry said exasperatedly, frustrated his friend could be so narrow-minded. How could Ron think such a thing after all Draco's bean through for the good side? But that wasn't the point. "He never spied on us—trust me. Of all people, either I or Severus would know. I think Voldemort _knew_ he would be a spy before he even asked Draco to join the Death Eater ranks in exchange for forgiveness and acceptance. Now that I look back on it all, that entire situation was a little suspicious—but I'm not sure what's happened otherwise."

Ron bit his lip, still wanting to hold on stubbornly to his beliefs that Draco was inherently evil, but willing to take Harry's word for it—his friend did, after all, know Voldemort better than anyone ever should. Of all the people in the world, Harry would best know what Voldemort was planning.

"What's Dumbledore doing about it?" asked Hermione, always the thinker. Her mind was already turning, trying to think of possible situations and outcomes.

"Nothing!" exclaimed Harry, frustrated, throwing his hands in the air. "Absolutely nothing! He's planning what he _might_ do _if_ different things happen in an _imaginary_ situation. In other words, he's sitting in his comfy little armchair, sucking on a lemon drop, and twiddling his thumbs while singing 'Marry Had a Little Lamb'! He hasn't decided a _single thing_ since I told him that Voldemort was on the move, let alone taken action!"

"Harry, calm down. I'm sure he knows what he's doing," said Hermione, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"No!" shouted Harry, as angry as Hermione and Ron and ever seen him. Harry threw off Hermione's hand, and his actions became more agitated as he talked. "Everyone's been telling me to 'calm down'—well that's not right. Draco is in _trouble_. I've _seen_ what Voldemort can and will do—if he's not already dead, he's hurt and in trouble. The longer we wait, the more we risk, and I don't want that."

"Harry, we can't do anything if we don't know anything. You have to realize that," said Hermione. She knew Harry was worried about Draco, but this was something else. This worry, fear, irrational behavior—it all came from somewhere else inside Harry, and was just choosing now to make itself apparent.

"I know!" Harry shouted. Then, a bit more quietly, "I know. It's just…it's Draco. He was good—well, not good. Malfoy may never be _good._ But he wasn't—isn't—bad, and that's what counts. He was trying—his intentions were to help, no matter what, and that's what got him in trouble. He's on our—my—side. I can't let him be hurt just because his bastard father and the bastard that wants to take over the world are manipulating him, using him, just to get at me. If he's hurt, it's my fault. I…I can't let him be hurt…or worse…" By now, Harry was sitting on the floor in tears. The stress and worry was getting to him. He didn't want another person to die on his account. He didn't want to lose another person to that unyielding bastard who thought he could actually play with people's lives and get away with it.

Hermione knew it was probably the wrong choice, but she knew what she needed to do—supporting Harry was all that mattered at this point. She sat next to Harry and wrapped her arms around him. "We'll do whatever you need us to do, Harry. Let's get Draco out."

"Yeah, Mate. Just let us know what to do." Ron sat on the floor near Harry and Hermione—he wasn't as good at this comfort/support thing, but he could at least try, right?

Harry smiled at his friends—he knew he could always count on them. "First, we need to think of a plan."

"Well, duh," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Even _I_ knew that, and that's saying something!"

"After that, we find a way to get in touch with Voldemort, then get to where ever he is, find a way to get past whatever defenses and traps he may or may not have, find Draco's room, rescue him, get out, and somehow avoid losing a life."

"When put that way, it sounds pretty hopeless," said Ron. "Why don't we start with thinking of a plan? We can go from there."

Harry let out a weak laugh. "You said it, Ron."

"Well, what resources do we have?" asked Hermione.

"Us, first off. We've all been training and studying hard, so we should be better off than last time. I can probably get some Potions without Severus's knowledge, though I'm not sure we'd be able to use them, of if we were able to, if we could make them work. Most of his potions are beyond my capability, though I'm learning. You might be able to work them, Hermione, but I'm not sure it's worth it to go through that when none of us have been trained in using Potions for serious combat. But hey, it's an option, right? Anything else?"

"There's always the DA—they're trained and they always seem to want action, though most aren't ready for it. We could enlist two or three of the best and go from there—small numbers, though. We don't want to risk too much or be too obvious," said Hermione.

"Good thinking, 'Mione. Ron, you got anything?"

"We're going to need to get somewhere fast. I guess I can get some brooms ready, or maybe we could use those invisible horse-thingies again…though I vote brooms. Those things were creepy. Maybe we could all go to Hogsmeade and find some Floo Powder and a fireplace."

"Brooms will be fine, as long as we don't have too far away to go. I have a feeling I it will be close, though."

"Okay, so which DA members do we want to use?" asked Hermione.

"Dean and Seamus know their stuff pretty well," said Ron.

"And Neville, I think. He might be clumsy, but he's good in tight spots a lot of the time," added Harry.

Hermione took a moment to think. "I think that's all we can hope for. Most of the others are too busy, too clumsy, or too scared. Anyways, if we take too many more, we'll run the risk of getting caught or not being able to look out for ourselves."

"Great. Then let's go get them," said Harry.

* * *

Once they were all gathered back in the dorm room, doors re-locked and spells re-cast, Harry looked around at his five friends—the five friends that had readily agreed to help, not even knowing how bad it could get, or what might come of this day. "Now all we have to do is get in touch with Voldie," said Harry solemnly.

"Harry," said Seamus, "Don't call him by pet names. That's creepy and just plain wrong, in so many ways." Harry nodded, a small, hopeless grin flitting across his face—leave it to Seamus to always try to lighten the mood.

"So what do we do?" asked Ron after a moment of silence.

Harry thought for a minute. "I think all we have to do is…leave. Get away from Hogwarts. He'll get in touch with us, I'm sure. Defenses prevent him from being too open about anything, especially since I don't think he wants Dumbledore to know."

"Harry, are you sure we should do this?" asked Hermione apprehensively. "I think we're playing right into his hands."

Harry looked at Hermione. "I know we are. This is exactly what he wants us to do—which is why we're doing it." At the confused looks from the rest of the group, Harry continued. "He thinks I'm still ignorant, and that I'll fall for the same tricks as I did with Sirius. But I won't. I know what I'm doing right now. What he doesn't know is that I understand his tactics this time."

"Do you think that's enough?"

"Yes. I think we'll be fine." Okay, so maybe not 'fine.' But they didn't need to know that. "Now, we need to talk about strategy."

Harry sat everyone down, and then went over the plan with as much detail as he could. He included all contingency plans he could think of, though he knew there could be a lot he would miss. "I want everyone to stay in groups of two or more—preferably more. We work best as a team, as proved in DA meetings, so don't forget that. Voldemort will have an anti-apparition spell, so be prepared to use other methods to escape. I want you all to shrink your broom and keep it in your pocket—and, if possible, we'll try to find spare brooms for everyone, just incase one broom gets destroyed or lost."

"We don't know what the building will look like, so you'll have to look for exits when we first enter. They shouldn't be hard to find—just look for a crowd of Death Eaters that are trying to block the door. Doors will be guarded and warded, as will windows, to prevent our escape once we enter and other back ups. Be prepared to use powerful spells to break through. Don't use unforgivable, though. They can have horrible consequences, especially if you don't know how to use them. Just knock the Death Eaters out, tie them up, and break their wands. That should be enough to incapacitate them."

"Once in the building, our first priority is to find Draco. This entire mission is to rescue him—after that, I don't care what we do."

Seamus raised is hand. "Uh, Harry—why Draco? I can understand this battle for tactical reasons, or just because you're pissed off and want the war over, but why him? I thought he was just an excuse or something."

"No one's life should be lost in this war, especially because of me. Draco, though you might not know it, was—is—good. He was on our side, and he was helping. If I do not at least try to save someone who is on our side, fighting against that monster, than I am no better than the monster himself. Just because Draco is a Slytherin and not one of our best friends does not mean we can leave him to the wolves. If you have a problem with that, leave now."

"Nope, no problem. Just wondering."

"Good. In that case, back to where we were. First, we find Draco. Then, we get out. If there happens to be a conflict with Voldemort, which there probably will be, I want all of you to leave immediately. If we don't have Draco yet, find him—otherwise, get out. If it looks too dangerous, don't worry about Draco. Leave, get Dumbledore and Snape, and come back. By then, we'll know where it is, how heavily it's guarded, and what to do, so Dumbledore will be able to get a pretty good plan going."

"Anything else, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry thought. "Be careful. I think that's all I can say. And watch out for each other."

Everyone was quiet for a while. "So…what do we do now?" asked Seamus. "We can't exactly sit on our bums until the teachers to say, 'Okay! Have fun with your master plan! Come back safe!' We need to sneak off campus, don't we?"

"You're absolutely right. We need to get moving. I have to arrange something first, though. Go get your brooms ready, but don't be obvious. Go in small groups, and if anyone asks, make up an excuse. I'll be right there."

All but Hermione and Ron left. "What are you going to do?" asked Hermione.

"Arrange our contingency plan. I'll be right down—don't worry."

Hermione nodded, and the pair left. Harry sat down on his bed and immediately began writing a note.

_Severus,_

_I know. It's stupid, and you very well might kill me—if Voldemort does not get there first. Just to let you know, that was meant to be a joke. Not very funny, huh? Sorry. But I could _not_ leave Draco when he was just coming to our side. There are others with me. We have a plan, don't worry. You will receive this letter an hour and a half after we've left. I know that you'll come rushing after us immediately—but that's the plan, so feel free. Voldemort's nearby, I know it. It's only a matter of leaving campus, and we'll know where he is. I'll try to leave you directions. I love you._

_Harry._

Harry charmed the note to appear in front of Severus, wherever he may be at the time, in an hour and a half, and then he followed the rest of his friends. He could only hope to get in and out quickly, with little trouble—but he knew that was impossible. With the risk he was taking, it was very likely there would be a big battle with Voldemort in the near future—and Harry could only hope it would turn out okay.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know. You're saying "I WAITED A MONTH AND A HALF FOR _THAT_?" Sorry.

Johnny: Not as sorry as I am. I actually had to endure her complaints about not being able to post the story. _God_ she can complain.

Me: Yeah, right. You're just pissed because you haven't been able to talk to your beloved fans for so long. Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's less than a month before school ends, so I'll soon have more time to write. Anyways, please review. Rave about how you haven't been able to read this, chew me out, or tell me if you liked it—I love to read it all.


	21. The Big Battle

A/N: Sorry it took so long--I was going to have this out two days ago, but was acting screwy. Well, school is finally out. And though I have work and everything along those lines now, I have a lot more time (to put it mildly) to write. So, if we're lucky, these last few chapters (yes, we are nearing the end) will come out quite quickly. Everyone cross your fingers!

Johnny: Gods, let's hope she finishes soon. I'm getting tired of this story.

Me: Yeah, right. You know you'll be sad to see it go. Anyways, this isn't ours. We do not own Harry Potter & Co. in any way, aside from keeping our hands on a couple copies of the book. Enjoy this new chapter!

**THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS!**

Note: To the one person who emailed me when s/he first started reading, I stand by what I said. You know who you are...but I don't want to give it away for the others. Have fun.

Chapter 21

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Harry was flying high above the ground, his friends behind him. Harry knew the border was nearing, so he called everyone to a halt. "Do you remember what to do?" There were silent nods from all. "Good. I won't say good luck, because that implies something bad could happen. Instead, I'll say this: be careful, and when we're done, I'm treating everyone to a nice round of butterbeers." 

Harry turned and the others followed him away from Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron flanked him, then Neville, and Dean and Seamus brought up the rear. Harry couldn't squelch the butterflies in his stomach, so he ignored them; he wasn't going to give in to his fears now, of all times. Once the passed outside the borders, there was no turning back.

Harry felt the tingling of the wards as he passed through the invisible boundaries of Hogwarts. As soon as the tingling sensation was gone, a red light appeared in the distance. It was the color of blood, and just looking at it made Harry sick to the stomach. The desire to turn back was overwhelming—but it was too late. He had to go on, no matter how afraid he might be. Harry cast a spell that would show Severus where to go—it was a simple direction and location spell he learned in his third year—and headed on the way, refusing to look back. He was afraid that if he spared even one glance for the place that had become his home, he wouldn't be able to make it.

Half an hour later, Harry could see the house where the red light originated. It seemed innocent enough, but Harry knew it was much more dangerous than the happy flowerbed and singing birds led one to believe. As soon as Harry knew where to go, he motioned everyone to slowly lower themselves below the tree line. Though there was a good chance Voldemort already knew he was there, Harry wanted to at least try to surprise his opponent.

Once dismounted, Harry gathered everyone around one last time, and went over the plan once more in a hushed voice. "Remember—get in, find Draco, get out. Make sure to look for exits, and most of all, watch out for each other. Leave Voldemort to me, if he appears—which he most likely will. See you all on the other side."

Brooms already shrunk and pocketed, the group of DA members slowly made their way towards the small house. The birds had stopped singing, and the light seemed to dim the closer they got. Harry felt the tingling of an anti-apparation ward, and then they were on the edge of the clearing.

Harry motioned for a quick stop to look at the house. It seemed there was only one entrance, which meant there was only one way out, not counting the windows. Harry hoped there would be a back door—that way, the Death Eaters would not be concentrated around the front door, and would divide their forces instead. There were three windows in the front—two on the left, and one on the right. Harry assumed that Draco would be kept in the attic, or, if there was one, the basement. That would mean Death Eaters concentrated around either of the sets of stairs. Other than that, Harry had no idea what to expect. He knew the others were thinking along the same lines—they had discussed all of this earlier.

Harry motioned his group to the right side of the house—there was a good fifty feet of clearing between the forest and the house, and he didn't want to approach the front door directly for fear of being hit. Instead, they would approach from the side with the least amount of windows. It was also closest to the door, and the open space to the side of the house seemed to be about twenty feet shorter. When Harry reached the side of the house, he motioned for a stop. He then made his way alone to look at the back of the house; no back door, only one window.

Harry motioned the group closer and hunkered down. He motioned Hermione and Neville to his right, and Ron, Dean and Seamus to his left. He then took his first step towards the house; he tried to walk where there was the least visibility, but there wasn't a lot of choice; from where he was at the moment, he could be seen from either window. He felt like he was wearing a neon green jumpsuit in a crowd of people wearing black business suits. The windows offered no view inside the house—there was probably a masking charm on them so that activity could not be seen from the outside.

After what seemed to be hours, Harry reached the side of the building. He could sense the presence of his friends—his classmates—behind him. He was suddenly regretting endangering their lives; what had he been thinking, taking others with him? Harry felt the guilt overwhelm him in an instant, but he pushed it back down; he could not change his mind now, and it would not do to be distracted with their fates while in battle. He knew now, though, that if any of them were hurt or—gods forbid—killed, he would never be able to live with himself again.

Harry reached the corner of the house. His wand, which had been out since they landed in the woods earlier, was held before him at arms length; his hands were shaking. Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath to prepare himself, and quickly turned the corner. The halfway finished curse he had been muttering under his breath, just in case there was someone there, died on his lips. Not only was no one there…but the door…was gone?

Harry closed his eyes and reopened them. The door was still missing. He pinched himself; no door appeared. Instead of standing there like an idiot, Harry retreated around the corner to recoup and think. Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow, and Harry could only shrug. He motioned for her to take a look. She sidled up beside him, then crouched to peak around the corner of the house (Hermione had always been smart and a quick thinker; she knew that anyone aiming a curse would be aiming at chest level, so crouching would throw that person off guard). After a moment of studying the face of the building, she came back, a puzzled look on her face.

Harry looked back around the house again, mimicking Hermione's crouch this time, but there was still no door. The windows were missing, too. Still…the path led right up to the house, where the door would be originally. Harry hit his head; he felt like a dunce. It was a simple concealment charm. His nerves were getting to him; he should have been able to recognize that right off. It seemed everyone was on the edge. Harry murmured _Finite Incantum_ and looked again—the door was there.

Harry resumed the approach to the door, crouching so that his entire body was well below the window and pressed himself against the wall. Though it might not protect him from view (he could only hope), it would make casting a curse much more difficult. Harry paused beneath the window to listen, but the only sound he could hear was his companions following him.

Harry finally reached the door and spared a glance behind him to make sure everyone was there. Neville's eyes were wide and he seemed short of breath, and sweat was running down his face. Dean and Seamus were tense and nervous—their hands were gripping their respective wands a little too tightly. Ron was shaking a little. Only Hermione seemed outwardly calm, though Harry could tell she was nervous—her darting eyes and the tight grip she had on her wand gave her away. Harry gave what he hoped was an encouraging grin (though he was fairly sure it failed) and crossed his fingers—he had lost track of time, but he could only hope Severus and Dumbledore would arrive soon. It might very well be their last hope.

With one last deep breath, Harry forced the door open. It banged against the wall behind it with a loud crash, and Harry quickly turned the corner and fired off a confusion curse that would temporarily disorient everyone inside. But…no one was there. The feeling of dread in Harry's stomach increased tenfold. He searched the room with his eyes, but nothing was there. There was a staircase that led upwards and a door that led to another room. The only furniture was a small table with a note on it. Harry's heart plummeted—a note. Harry motioned the others to follow as he entered the room. Dean and Seamus guarded the door. Hermione and Ron checked the staircase and the door. Neville approached the table with Harry.

The feeling of dread increased even more—Harry had known all along it had been all too easy. If Voldemort had been here, there would have been much more than a concealment charm guarding the door. Harry looked to Hermione and Ron to assure that there was no one hiding behind the corners before he read the note.

_Harry Potter, _

_It seems you have fallen for my trap—stupid boy. Did you really think it would be this easy to get inside the house?_ _You really are no match for me. To enlighten you: you have brought yourself, and no doubt some of your friends, to your doom. By opening the door and setting foot inside, you have triggered an alarm that will alert me to your presence. By now, my Death Eaters have apparated to the house and are currently moving to surround the house. I will arrive shortly after they have secured the area. Draco is in the attic, to let you know. I enjoyed telling him that he would be sitting there, helpless, unable to warn you of the trap, while you came to your inevitable doom. It will be amusing to see you try to rescue him—but you will fail. For, by the time you finish reading this letter, Death Eaters will be knocking down the door. _

_Yours Truly,  
Lord Voldemort_

Harry especially loved the "Yours Truly" bit—that was only a wee bit ironic and sarcastic. It sounded as if Voldemort might actually care for his well-being. Harry would have snorted with disdain, but he was slightly distracted—Voldemort had been accurate in that the Death Eaters were already attacking. Harry heard the first curse—a Crucius—just as he finished reading. Seamus was quick enough to duck out of the way of the curse, and Harry thanked whatever gods there were that they had trained on quick instincts in the DA.

Suddenly there were Death Eaters everywhere. The masks made it impossible to tell who was who, of course, but Harry was sure the Lestranges were there, and he thought he saw Pettigrew's hunched form. Three had found a way to enter through the back of the building—had there been a door under concealment there, too?—and were fighting with Harry and Ron. Dean and Seamus were trying to defend the front door, though they were quickly losing ground. Harry immediately informed Neville, who was standing beside him and casting curses wherever it was needed, of the situation. Neville immediately headed for the stairs to release Draco, never looking back.

Harry turned his attention to Dean and Seamus, who were in the greatest need of help. He ran up to them and began casting curses left and right, defending the door from any intrusion. He could see they were losing, though. They needed something—anything—to turn the advantage to their side. Harry spared a glance for Hermione and Ron—they seemed to be winning the upper hand. One Death Eater was already unconscious on the floor, and the other two were cornered. Hermione had a cut on her cheek, and it seemed that Ron could not use his left arm at the moment, but they were otherwise fine. Still, it would be a few moments before they could help at the door.

Harry cast curses with a small part of his brain while he racked his mind for something that could help. Finally, he hit upon it. He motioned for Dean and Seamus to back off the door and slowly move to the edges, where they couldn't be seen. That way, it would appear as if they had given up on the door. Harry waited a few seconds for the curses to stop, then counted to three. At that moment, he leaped forward and cast a confusion spell; Dean and Seamus immediately followed, picking off Death Eaters as they could. Though it only worked for a few seconds and only four of the numerous Death Eaters were incapacitated, it gave them a few seconds to recoup and gain the advantage. Harry knew it would work only once, though, and it wouldn't take long for the Death Eaters to regain their composure.

Just as Harry was about to formulate another plan, there was a large crack—Voldemort had arrived. Harry sent a sidelong glance to Dean and Seamus, who had both frozen. Even though they knew the likelihood of Voldemort's arrival, it was still a shock…and they were terrified. The two snapped out of their stupor quickly and were soon fighting off curses once again, though Dean received a gash on one leg from his moment of hesitation. Harry once again looked at Hermione and Ron, who had both registered Voldemort's arrival and returned their attention to the Death Eaters before them. The pair looked a little worse for wear, but they still maintained the upper hand, and were quickly gaining ground. It seemed that another of their opponents would soon be unconscious on the floor, and it was only a matter of minutes before they could reinforce Dean and Seamus. There was no sign of Neville yet, and Harry hoped he wasn't in trouble.

Harry turned his attention to the problem in front of him. He needed to get out of the house to fight Voldemort—he didn't want to endanger his friends by fighting inside the house, so it had to be out there…but that left the problem of getting past the hoards of Death Eaters that were firing curses at the door.

He shouldn't have worried. Voldemort had already informed his followers that Harry was to be left for him and him alone—the arrogant bastard. Harry dived out of the door and rolled to a standing position (he had always thought that maneuver really cool to watch but completely unnecessary in real life—now he saw differently; it kept you moving out of the way of your opponent's fire, and it returned you to an upright position in seconds). Wand at ready, Harry faced Voldemort.

"You've done better than I thought, boy," Voldemort hissed. His voice made Harry's stomach roil, and he had to contain what little breakfast he had. "But not good enough."

Harry was already fed up with Voldemort's speech; he was obviously going to be the traditional bad guy and give the typical bad-guy "your situation is hopeless, join me and we'll rule forever" lecture (which was emphasized by the letter that seemed to be the typical bad-guy letter) Harry had always seen in the movies Dudley had watched. First Voldemort would tell Harry how hopeless his endeavor was, and how he would inevitably lose, et cetera, et cetera. Then he would tell Harry a little about his history, why he wants to rule the world, his master plan and how it will better the world, so on and so forth. He would probably say something about how Harry should join the him before it was too late—how they, with their forces combined, could be great and rule the world, blah, blah, blah. After Harry refused, Voldemort would proceed to (once again) tell Harry how completely hopeless this battle was for the "Light" side. The speech would be pompous and long, and completely and totally useless. Only after every last egotistical word came out of Voldemort's mouth would the battle begin.

Harry cut the talk short, to say the least—just as Voldemort was opening his slimy mouth, Harry fired an impediment curse that hit Voldemort right in the chest, momentarily disabling him before he threw the curse off. _Let that be a lesson to all those villains who love to talk_, thought Harry as he dodged a curse. Harry quickly tuned out his surroundings, concentrating only on Voldemort.

The curses were relatively mild at first—only ones that would seriously damage and incapacitate. They gradually became more intense, getting to the point where they would maim, and then becoming deadly. Harry and Voldemort appeared to be evenly matched to any observer—Harry would fire a curse, dodge or block Voldemort's counter curse, and fire one in return.

Harry fired a confusion curse that did nothing to improve the situation, then dodged a curse he had never heard off—the mark it left where it hit the ground was nasty, though, and Harry was glad to have dodged it.

Harry took cover behind a tree, but the tree soon exploded from a curse Voldemort threw at it. Harry rolled out from behind it and screamed "expelliramus," hoping to disarm Voldemort, but it had no effect.

Voldemort laughed. "Did you really think that would work, boy? That spell has not worked since I was in my third year at Hogwarts."

While Voldemort was distracted with talking, Harry levitated a large rock nearby and hurled it at Voldemort. Though it did not hit the evil man, it caught him slightly off guard, and it took a little effort to block the spell.

Though the fight seemed to be even, Harry could feel the effects after mere minutes. His breathing was hard to come by, and his reaction time was slower. He needed to do something—fast. Before he could think of some ingenious plan, though, a cutting curse landed. Granted, it only grazed him, and caused minimal harm (a gash in his side), but it was a sign that the battle was changing.

An evil grin spread across Voldemort's face. "It seems I am winning already, Potter," he hissed with glee. "This was even easier than I thought." Voldemort hit him with another curse, but Harry didn't hear what it was.

Harry clutched his side, which was bleeding freely and causing more pain than he thought possible. His gaze was blurry—were his glasses gone?—and his mind cloudy. Things weren't looking good. In the back of his mind, he could tell something had changed—there were more people, it seemed—but his brain couldn't register what that might mean.

Voldemort cast another spell—Harry had no idea what it was—that had Harry lying on the ground. Harry tried to prop himself up, but he knew it was useless. Voldemort was winning. Soon he would cast the final spell, and it would all be over. The Dark Lord walked over to him, and haughtily hovered over Harry's prone form, wand at the ready.

"I thought you would be a challenge, boy. It seems I was wrong. Still, this was mildly entertaining. Once you are out of the way, the wizarding world will virtually fall to my feet. It will be a matter of time—a short period of time, I might add—that I will be ruler of this world. The muggles and mudbloods will be gone, and only the pure shall survive."

Harry wanted to role his eyes. Voldemort could end it right now, yet he was taking this moment to gloat. How typical. Still, the situation was not as amusing as he wanted it to be—he was about to die, and rolling his eyes was probably not the best thing to do. It would only anger Voldemort. If he could hold of for a few minutes—maybe, just maybe—he could find a way to win. Or, even better, reinforcements would arrive and Dumbledore would have a chance to defeat Voldemort. It would be worth dying if he could give the wizarding world a few more minutes of hope.

"Dumbledore will win, you evil git." Well, taunting him probably wasn't the best way to stall for time, but it was all Harry could think off. Maybe he should have let Voldemort have his corny, unnecessary bad-guy speech earlier. Now that he thought about it, it always seemed to give the good guys the time needed to get the upper hand and win. Harry couldn't resist the ironic smile that drifted across his face—it seemed that the bad guy didn't always lose, as the movies led to believe.

"Oh really? Which is why he is in the house right now, fighting to save his life and the lives of those you endangered, and not out here rescuing his little savior? You die, boy, without anyone to witness your death."

Harry closed his eyes; he knew what was coming. Harry brought a picture of Severus to mind—a happy one, with Severus's beautiful smile and loving gaze. He only hoped Severus would find happiness when all this was over. He knew Severus would be devastated—and he felt sorry that he could not save Severus from this pain—so he hoped Severus would have the strength and the will power to get through this. He wished Ron and Hermione would get married and have a happy life together with beautiful children. He wished for Draco's safety, and the eventual winning of this war. He hoped that his friends would be safe, and that all those who cared for him would live good lives. But most of all, he hoped for Severus.

Voldemort laughed evilly. "You die, boy, and the world you leave behind is mine. _Avada_ _Kedavra_." Harry could almost see Severus as he felt the life drain out of him.

* * *

A/N: Yes, this chapter is a little short. Yes, I know it's a terrible, horrible, over-used ending. Yes, I know I probably spelled some curse or another wrong. Yes, I know you want to know what happens next. Yes, I am cackling evilly as I leave you with this incredibly wonderful cliffhanger. And yes, Johnny & I would love to read your reviews and hear all your thoughts on how truly amazing (or completely horrible) we really are. I hope you all enjoy waiting for the next chapter! Mwah! Mwah! (That would be the sound of me blowing kisses to you all.) 


	22. Miracles

A/N: Look! I'm back! Good thing, too. Some of those reviews were getting pretty harsh.

Johnny: By that, she means she's afraid she'll lose readers due to…well, she's just afraid she'll lose you guys.

Me: Nope. Don't own it. Sorry to disappoint you all. You know, I've always wondered why I keep putting disclaimers up here…shouldn't the first one suffice for the entire story? I guess I do so because, at times, the can be entertaining. On with the story! Yay!

Chapter 22

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Severus apparated just outside the tree line, then rushed to the house. He could see the cottage—it was covered in scorch marks and large chunks of one wall were taken out. All the windows but one were broken, and a battle was raging—both inside and outside.

Severus broke the clearing and took a quick look around. It seemed that Dean, Seamus and Ron were holding the door and broken windows. Many Death Eaters were on the ground, clutching broken body parts or just passed out. It didn't seem that any were dead. Severus had to commend his students' abilities—not many people could hold their own against fifteen, maybe twenty Death Eaters and still be alive. Hermione, Neville and Draco were nowhere to be seen, though—Snape could only assume they were either hurt, or the two former were rescuing the latter. He hoped they were rescuing, because he didn't want to think of the implications of them being hurt.

The only other person Severus could not locate—and by far the most important—was Harry. His eyes roamed everywhere searching for his Harry—his dear, precious, incredibly stupid Harry—but the Gryffindor was nowhere to be found. Damn Gryffindors with their damn pride and their goddamn courage, always rushing into rescue missions without thinking clearly about it. Snape ignored that the trait was complete endearing (if foolhardy), and focused on the fact that Harry could be hurt—or worse, dying. Dumbledore and the other Order members would take care of finishing up here; he had to find Harry.

Just as he was about to rush around the other side of the house and see if Harry was fighting there, Severus saw a flash of light and heard an evil cackle. He turned to the flash and saw what he most feared—the Dark Lord was hovering over Harry's prone, beaten form. Harry's eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow…and Voldemort's wand was out.

Severus broke out into a run. "You die, boy," said Voldemort, his voice sending shivers and unpleasant thoughts down Severus's spine, "and the world you leave behind is mine." Severus knew what was coming next. He dived for Harry, but he saw he was too late. There was a green burst of light from Voldemort's wand as those accursed words were said, and Harry stopped breathing.

Severus fell on the ground next to Harry, cradling the limp head in his hands. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face, making their way in rivers and falling to the ground. The feeling he felt was horrible—defeat, despair, hatred and…loneliness. Loneliness for all the time in his future he would not have Harry to make him smile. For all those times he would never laugh again, or feel Harry's soft, warm body curled up next to him in bed. For those times he would not have a silent companion when he was making a potion or grading papers. For those times he just…wanted…love. Harry had given him life, and now this bastard was taking it away.

"You asshole," Severus whispered.

"Good to see you, too, Severus. I'm glad you came in time to witness your precious Savior's defeat. It is too bad you switched sides—or you could be standing here with me, basking in my glory."

"You bastard." Severus looked up from Harry's cold face, into the face of his killer. "You took away the one thing that was keeping me sane—the one person who cared whether or not I was alive. You took away the one person who cared for me as I cared for him." Severus's voice, instead of getting louder and louder the angrier he got, was getting quieter with every word he spoke.

"It wasn't hard, either. He was much less of a challenge than I thought he would be. Now the world is mine to conquer—there is nothing to stop me now."

"You're wrong." Severus stood up. His entire body was shaking, but not out of fear—he was angrier than anyone could imagine.

Voldemort came out of his reverie for just long enough to look at Severus with a look somewhere between disdain and egotistical contempt. "And what will stop me now? Fate has been fulfilled—I have defeated him. All that is left is for me to take over. Do you really think that you could defeat me and win this war? Do not think too highly of yourself."

"Die, bastard. And may you burn in hell for all eternity." Severus flung a disarming spell and rolled out of the way, dodging Voldemort's angry counter.

"You dare oppose me, Severus?" Voldemort screamed. "You will suffer for your impudence. _Crucio_!"

Severus dodged yet again. He was stalling for time, hoping Dumbledore would come to his aid soon. Dumbledore would know what to do—he would save Harry, save Severus, and save the wizarding world. Or so Severus wanted to believe. Somewhere inside him, though, he knew that it was hopeless. Harry was dead…and nothing save a miracle would bring him back.

* * *

Which might be why Severus let the next curse hit him. He didn't quite hear what it was, due to the blind fury he found himself in, but he knew that—whatever it was—it was bad. It would put him out of his misery and closer to Harry…for if Severus could not be with Harry in life, he would join Harry in death.

Harry wasn't sure why he wasn't dead yet. His breathing was shallow, almost not existent, and he found he couldn't move, but he wasn't dead. Granted, he couldn't really see, and his sense of touch was almost nonexistent, but he was alive. He could hear, though. He recognized Severus's voice, and he somehow knew his head was in his lover's hands. He heard some words—he didn't pick out much, but he knew Severus was angry and Voldemort was gloating. Then there were the sounds of battle…and then there was the sound of Severus screaming…Voldemort cackling…death…

Severus. Harry suddenly understood what all the sounds around him meant. Severus was in trouble—dying. The rage washed over Harry—it started in his toes and worked all the way up his body, pervading every nook and cranny of his body. Soon, he had regained feeling in all his extremities—possibly even better than before. He could see more clearly—even without his glasses—than ever in his life. All his senses were amplified a hundred times, becoming better than in all of Harry's existence.

Harry sat up. He wasn't sure why he was still alive—that was inexplicable. What he _was_ sure of, though, was that it was Severus who had brought him from the brink of death. And Severus was in trouble now. Harry looked around for his wand, but it wasn't visible. He must have dropped it somewhere. Oh well—he didn't need it now. The air around Harry cackled with energy, shimmering blue around his body; magic rolled off him in waves. There was suddenly a force field around the three—so no one could get in, and Voldemort could not get out.

Voldemort looked up from where he was standing over Severus's body, about to deliver a painful blow—which, Harry realized, meant Severus was still alive…if barely. That meant there was still hope. And hope was good.

"How are you still alive?" screeched Voldemort. "I killed you! I watched the life drain out of you! How is this possible?"

"Some things are better left unexplained, Riddle. Some things are miracles. Like the love of my mother—it protected me when I was younger. Now the love of Severus has protected me yet again. The only difference is that, this time, I'm older. I'm not a helpless baby for you to kill. Now I'm a trained wizard—which mean's you're going to die."

Voldemort took a step back. His mouth opened as if to say something, but Harry waved his hand and nothing came out. "Don't speak, Riddle. I don't want to listen to your pleadings or your senseless ramblings. Just die."

There was a flash of white light, and all the people who had postponed their battles to see the drama unfolding were momentarily blinded. When they looked up, only Harry was standing. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen, but there was a dark burn mark where he had been standing. The trees near Voldemort had all withered and died—nothing would grow there for years to come.

Harry was tired. He was as tired as he had ever been before—more so, maybe. But none of that mattered. He had to make sure Severus was all right. That was the most important. Severus had to survive—had to live—so that Harry could thank him for his love and for coming to the rescue. He had to live so Harry could thank his night in shining armor…or maybe his night with greasy black hair and a generic, ugly black robe.

Harry half stumbled, half crawled to where Severus was laying on the ground. All those watching held their breaths in suspense—no one wished to go near Harry. First, he did not look as if he wanted help. Second, all were afraid that if it even appeared they were getting in the way, Harry would have another outburst. There was nothing to fear, though. Harry was far too tired to pull another stunt like he just had. He just wanted Severus right now.

After what seemed like ages, Harry finally collapsed beside Severus. He placed his head near Severus's, making sure there was breathing—it was shallow, but it was there. Then he laid his head down, gently, on Severus's arm, which was half-flung to the side and conveniently placed for Harry to rest on. "We're okay, Severus. We'll live. See you soon."

Harry blacked out on Severus's shoulder. The battle wrapped itself up; most of the Death Eaters ran as soon as they realized Voldemort was gone, hoping to make their quick getaway. A few were caught, others escaped—it didn't really matter. In the end, all would be captured and tried. It only took a matter of time. All that mattered right now was that Voldemort was defeated.

Hermione came up behind Ron; she had gone to the attic to assist Neville, who was having a difficult time freeing Draco. Once Draco was freed, they had to treat some of his worst wounds—no doubt Voldemort had tortured him a little before leaving him to die—and by the time she rejoined their group, the battle was almost over.

Ron took Hermione's hand, and they stood and looked at Harry together, letting Dumbledore and the rest of the members of the Order finish up. They had done their job now, and so they stood watch over Harry. Dean, Seamus and Neville stood a little off to their side, and Draco was being patched up by a mediwitch—but Draco's eyes were still trained on Harry and Severus.

"You think He's really dead?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Yes," came a voice from behind the two. They turned to see Dumbledore, his face older than it had been earlier that day. His blue eyes had almost lost their twinkle, the mirth was gone from his voice, and his mouth was a hardened line. Hermione didn't particularly like this 'serious' Dumbledore. "Tom Riddle is dead, as is Voldemort. Neither will haunt our futures, though their effects may still be felt in the world for years to come. It will take a long time to fix the damage Tom has caused, but it can be fixed." Dumbledore gave the pair a smile that somehow encompassed all standing around him, and a little of the twinkle returned to his eyes. "I take it Harry will be treating you all to a butterbeer when this is finished? Well, when he wakes up and it is safe for him to go, I will give you six—seven, including Draco—the day off from school to get your celebration drink. You deserve it, after what you have done for our world."

Hermione turned back to watch Harry, wondering how, exactly, Dumbledore seemed to know everything in the world. "Do you think Harry and Severus will be okay?" she asked of no one in particular.

She didn't get a response for a long while. After a moment, Dumbledore spoke up. "We can only hope. Harry has placed a lot of stress on his body—maybe more than it can take. And we do not know how badly Severus was hurt before Harry could rescue him. Keep your fingers crossed."

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed upon waking was that he hurt all over. The second thing he noticed was that Severus was not by his side. Seeing as the latter was much more important, Harry opened his eyes to look for his lover.

Boy, was that a mistake. First off, it really, really hurt to do anything more than to just lie there. Second, it was really, really bright. Still—Severus was more important.

Harry moved to sit up, trying to ignore the sharp pain all over his body. He could tell he was in the infirmary—the smell of overly clean sheets and the glaring whiteness of everything gave it away. That meant Severus had to be nearby—he was hurt, too, and he would be in the infirmary near Harry.

Two gentle hands pushed Harry back on the bed, halting any further attempt to look for Severus. "Now, now, Harry. We mustn't do more than we can manage. Severus is in the bed next to you. If you listen, you can hear him breathing."

Harry closed his eyes and listened—sure enough, he could hear someone breathing nearby, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was the slightly uneven breathing he associated to Severus sleeping. There were benefits to waking up every morning just a little before Severus, or falling asleep after him, which included knowing Severus's breathing. Harry was just glad for that.

So then…who was the voice? From the sounds of it, Dumbledore. It was gentle, firm, and it sounded just like his prying, badgering, good-for-getting-in-other's-business voice…and Harry absolutely loved hearing it. "Hello, Headmaster," he managed to croak out. "Good to see you…or rather, to hear you."

"It's good to see you too, Harry. We were beginning to think you'd never wake up." Harry wondered how long he had been asleep, exactly. "Eight days and seven hours, to be precise." Harry wondered if Dumbledore could read minds. "No, I cannot read minds." Really? "Yes, really. I'm just good at reading people. You tend to pick up such people-skills when you've lived as long as I have." Riiight. Like Harry would believe that likely story. Oh well—it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Severus was safe.

"What's happened since…?" Harry trailed off. He couldn't say it—though he was pretty sure he defeated Voldemort, he wasn't sure. They could be waging war as he was speaking, and he wouldn't be the wiser.

"You defeated him, Harry. All that is left of his evil presence is a burn mark and a few dead trees. Draco is safe—still a little worse for wear, but he will make it. Your friends came out with nothing more than one broken arm, a couple bad gashes, and a few bumps on the head. You trained them well; they really held their own in that battle. Better than most people three times their age. I'm amazed that you all could do what we adults have been trying to do for years now, though I must say I'm not as surprised as most."

"Other than that battle, there have been a few skirmishes here and there—mostly rebellious Death Eaters who do not wish to believe it is over. Those were wrapped up quickly, as they were, for the most part, unorganized and weak attacks. Without their leader, the Death Eaters are virtually useless. The Ministry made the formal announcement of Voldemort's death two days after the battle—they wanted to make completely sure first. Still, the word leaked out before then, and there have been parties ever since. You have more mail right now than I think I've had in my lifetime—and that's saying something. People wishing to congratulate you, to thank you, to give you presents, invite you to a party or two—even a little hate mail from a few faithful followers, but that has been taken care of already."

Dumbledore continued after a few moments. "There will be a large celebration soon, of course. Since no one knew when you would wake up, it is scheduled for two days after you regain consciousness. Of course, if you wish to postpone it, I'm sure we can make arrangements for you to appear to be unconscious, at least of a little while. The entire wizarding world will show up, I'm sure. Those that don't will be considered Death Eaters, most likely. It will be held here, due to the ability of the castle to accommodate however many people are in the vicinity. That, and its proximity to you. A few people have already begun to arrive—though all have been turned away. We will only accept visitors when the party begins, not before. The only ones allowed in, currently, are family to see their young ones."

Harry groaned. He didn't really want to deal with people right now. "Do not worry, Harry. We will not allow anyone to bother you, if you do not wish it. We will have a press conference with a small group of reporters when you feel ready, not before. You will not be able to get away without saying something about your glorious battle, but we can control who is here, how many are here, and anything else we like." Harry nodded, forced to accept it. The world would not do without him, he knew—but he'd rather not be the person in the spotlight. Ron, Hermione—they were just as instrumental to the defeat of Voldemort as he was. Why couldn't they interview his friends? Well…they probably had, he realized. But that did not mean they would not wish to interview him as well.

Speaking of Ron and Hermione—"If that's all, send them in. I guess they're outside the infirmary, waiting for you to finish."

Dumbledore let out a chuckle. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not smart. Would you like all of them, or just Ron and Hermione?"

"Bar anyone who was not at the battle—I can't deal with too many right now, but I want to see them all. Make sure that if Draco wants in, he can come, too." Dumbledore nodded, and left Harry alone for a moment.

Seconds later, there was a crowd of people around Harry's bed. Ron helped Harry sit up so he could see, and Hermione handed him a glass of water. "How you doing, mate?" asked Ron.

"Better than before. How are all of you?" There was a chorus of 'goods' from all.

Harry looked around. Hermione and Ron were holding hands—though they had been in love before, this battle, a near-death experience, seemed to have brought them closer together. Dean and Seamus seemed to be closer, too, and both looked better than they had ever before. Neville was happily perched on the end of Harry's bed, though he seemed a little nervous that Draco was standing right next to him. Draco, for his part, looked a little uncomfortable that he was surrounded in a room of Gryffindors—and not being verbally (or physically) attacked. That, and he looked a little disgusted with all their happiness, joy, courage, and, in general, their Gryffindor-ness. Still, he was there, and he seemed happy to see Harry.

"So we're going to all get butterbeers after this, right?"

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Can't wait, mate. Actually, if you'd like, I can go pick them up and we can have the party here. That way we don't have to go out in public and all—we found out a while ago that even when _we_ venture outside, we're mobbed by people. Think of what it'd be like if you go out!"

"Good point. Will you do that? Make sure to get some candy and stuff, too. We can have a real party. I'm sure if you go to Fred and George, we can get a few decorations and tricks and stuff. Get some candy, too. I'll get Dumbledore or someone to get you the money from my account—and don't say you guys are chipping in. This is my treat, remember? If it weren't for you all, I wouldn't be here right now. I needed you, no matter what you guys think. Anyways, I have the money for it, and it will make me feel good to do something with all that gold. I feel like it's collecting dust, you know."

Everyone acquiesced, despite their grumbling. Draco shifted his feet, looking mildly uncomfortable. "You're invited too, Draco."

"But I didn't do anything, and you didn't promise me anything like you did them. No, I'll pass. Anyways, why would I want to hang out with a bunch of Gryffindors for a party? You all probably throw the dullest parties around."

"Draco, you will attend and be happy about it—you had your part in this war, too, like it or not. And even though we're Gryffindors, you can tolerate us for one night—let's just put the house rivalry aside for one night and enjoy life, okay?"

Draco nodded, resigned to the idea that he might actually have to endure Gryffindors for an entire evening. His eyes kept glancing to Severus, though—it seemed he was torn between celebrating with Harry and rushing to Severus's side.

"When do they think he'll wake up?" Harry asked. Everyone knew whom he was talking about, even though he had never specified—it wasn't exactly hard to guess.

"They say he'll be up around the same time as you," answered Draco.

"Draco, it's okay if you visit him, too," said Harry.

Draco gave Harry a smile and went over. "I know that, Potter. Don't get any ideas about me waiting for your permission or anything—I just didn't want to seem rude. Malfoys are never rude."

"I know. But that doesn't mean you can't be caring, either. How does he look? I can't really tell from here. Is there any way I can get closer?"

"We were told not to move you," said Hermione. "You can see him from where you are. He's doing perfectly well."

"Oh, let the boy move to see Severus already. If anything, it will do them both good," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "You Gryffindors do what your told far too much for anyone's good."

After much pain and confusion, Harry was finally moved to Severus's bed. He perched on the side of it and just gazed at Severus for a while. After long minutes, he moved to pace one hand on Severus's cheek. A tear rolled down his face as Harry thought about what he could have lost.

"He'll wake up, mate. Don't worry," said Ron, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll see. And he'll be all the happier that you're here, alive, to see him."

Harry nodded. "I almost lost him, you know. Voldemort was so close to killing him…and then he would have been gone. I don't think I could live without him. He's such a wonderful person—so good to me. He sees me for who I am, understands me. Don't get me wrong—you all know and understand me pretty well, too. But Severus…not only does he know me and understand me…he…it's just…"

"We understand, Harry," said Hermione, her voice quiet. "He's a part of you. He is able to understand you in a way we, as your friends, never could. You and he are made for each other—we all see that."

Harry nodded as another tear slipped down his cheek. His hand was gliding gently over Severus's face, soft touches on every surface he could reach. He watched as Severus's eyes twitched slightly behind his eyelids, as Severus seemed to sigh and lean into his touch, every so slightly. Gods, how he couldn't wait for Severus to wake up.

* * *

A/N: Well, who's ready for a party? I mean, Voldemort's defeated, so we need a party, right? Review, please. I live for the reviews. All who review are invited to our big party. And, if you're lucky, there might be nice smut at the party. So review!

As a side note, you can all thank Bambino for the quick posting of this chapter. If he hadn't asked, it might have been two or three more days—but anything for my Bambino. So make sure to thank him! (And wish him luck with his…ah…cough…love life)


	23. Will to Live

A/N: Hello all. Having wonderful days, are we? So here's the next chapter. Not much to say. See below for personalized responses to a couple people who asked specific questions. :) Sorry I'm putting the responses here for those of you who hate long Author Notes…but I couldn't resist. If you'd notice, I haven't done it in a really, _really_ long time.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been mine, and probably never will be mine. All belongs to 4LI/I17j (translation: almighty) JKR. Love ya! Toodles!

**witchintraining:** actually, that was my plan all alone. Kudos to predicting what was coming up next.  
**ina: **You think I would deny _anything_ of my reviewers?Of course you get to come to the party…when we have it. If we have it. Though you might want to skip this party and come to the next…as you will see.  
**Satansduo666:** blushes Thank you! I love it when people love my story! Anyways, the only way I know to contact the staff is to send an email through their support services, but they don't seem to ever respond, so good luck.

**Thank you, everyone else, for all my reviews!**

On with the story! And just to let you know ahead of time…the party's not what you think.

Chapter 23

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Harry was settled comfortably in one of the plush chairs the Room of Requirement had provided for their little celebration. Hermione and Ron were on a love seat next to him; Seamus and Dean were on the couch across from him, and Neville was in another chair on the other side of him. Draco was seated uncomfortably in an armchair between Neville and the couch Dean and Seamus were on. He kept fidgeting, but Harry knew he was happy to be here—just a little uncomfortable among the multiple Gryffindors who had just saved his life. Harry felt very comfortable in this small group of friends.

Seamus struggled up from the chair (he had already had six butterbeers, and he didn't seem to hold his alcohol very well, despite his being Irish) and stood up, waving his (fourth) glass of butterbeer wildly in the air. "I propose a toast," he slurred. "To Harry, and to Snape—for saving our asses."

Harry smiled and took a sip of his drink. He was worried, though. He knew he should be enjoying this time with his friends, but it didn't take away his worry. Severus had yet to wake up. Oh, Dumbledore and Pomfrey said not to worry, but that didn't mean anything to Harry. He couldn't get the horrible feeling out of the bottom of his stomach. He shook his head and returned his attention to his friends—he would enjoy this time, and _then_ he would worry.

Seamus promptly collapsed back onto the couch and downed the rest of his butterbeer. He then turned to Dean. "So. Dean. You and me, right?" Harry saw Draco roll his eyes, and Hermione snickered.

Dean, who had only had half a glass, rolled his eyes. This was the third time Seamus had asked tonight. "You and me, what?"

"You know," Seamus whined, frustrated that Dean wasn't seeing his point. He gestured wildly between them, and then wiggled his eyebrows. Dean gave him a tolerant smile and took another sip of butterbeer. Seamus was drunk, and this was not a conversation to have, even if it was among friends. With luck, Seamus wouldn't remember anything in the morning. For now, Dean was content to just be here.

Hermione had abstained from the butterbeer, claiming she was drunk off one sip, but Ron was heartily downing his third glass (and looking a bit tipsy; it seemed he was even worse at holding his alcohol than Seamus). Ron tried to stand up to get some food that was on the table a few feet away, but he fell flat on his face instead. He pulled himself up, a large red welt already appearing on his forehead.

Hermione sighed in frustration. "This is why I don't drink. You make a fool of yourself when you're drunk."

"Really, 'Mione," slurred Ron. "I'm not making a fool of myself." Ron tried to get up, but fell once again. It seemed his balance was a bit off.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave Ron a small smile. "Right. I wish I had a camera. Then you'd think differently."

"You know, butterbeers don't actually have that much alcohol in them. That's why Madame Rosmerta is allowed to sell them to students—they only have enough alcohol to give taste, nothing more," said Draco.

"If it's so harmless, why aren't you drinking any?" Neville asked shyly. He was just getting used to the idea that Draco was not out to kill him, and the brave rescue he aided in gave him more courage. Even though he had mostly followed Draco's orders about how to release him, and he hadn't been able to get the last spell until Hermione had arrived, he had still helped rescue Draco. Therefore, the Slytherin owed him, didn't he? He was definitely treating Neville better now, that was for sure.

"I just do not like the taste of alcohol," said Draco simply.

"Right. And I'm a stuck pig," said Hermione.

"Nobody every said you weren't," said Ron in retort, who was lucid enough to at least see an opening when there was one. Of course, he wasn't lucid enough to realize that the opening he had taken meant indirectly defending Malfoy, whom he was still having a little trouble accepting, but that wasn't the point. The point was to get Hermione back for…for…well, Ron couldn't really remember, but for whatever she had said earlier. Wait—she did say something, didn't she? Ron shook his head and took another sip of butterbeer to clear his mind. Or something like that.

Everyone laughed at Ron's comment—even Hermione. The merriment continued into the wee hours of the night. When Ron passed out, Hermione decided it was time to drag him back to Gryffindor Tower. Neville helped Dean pick up Seamus, who was only barely awake. Harry told him he would be right up.

Once everyone was gone, Harry turned to Draco, who had stayed behind. "You want to go see Sev with me?" he asked. Draco nodded silently, and they headed out the door.

They didn't say anything on the way to the infirmary. Harry opened the door silently and paused to listen for Madame Pomfrey; it seemed she was asleep in her office, as he could hear soft snores coming from that direction. Harry motioned that it was all clear to Draco, and they proceeded in the room.

Harry and Draco stood on opposite sides of the bed, staring down at Severus. Harry couldn't help but notice that he looked incredibly drawn and pale. Harry gently touched the side of Severus's face, wishing with all his might that Severus would wake up soon.

"He doesn't look very good, does he?" whispered Draco. His voice was sad, and Harry couldn't help but agree.

"No. He needs to wake up soon. The banquet is tomorrow, and Dumbledore convinced Fudge to allow him to come. I want him to wake up so he can go with me. I want him to wake up so he can…so…" Harry couldn't finish his sentence. Tears were running down his face. He knew, somehow, that this was more serious than Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore were making it out to be.

After a few moments, Draco and Harry left without saying another word. Harry could tell that his fears were echoed by Draco. They parted their ways at the end of the hall, Harry going towards Gryffindor and Draco towards Slytherin.

* * *

The celebration wasn't that bad, really, even without Severus there to entertain Harry with snide comments about people who passed. It was interesting to meet all these different people—and there were some very interesting people in the wizarding world, that was for sure. What was with that robe? And did that man have…a tree growing out of his head? Harry shook his head and took another sip of the pumpkin juice he had in his hands. He wondered what Severus would say about all these people—he would, more than likely, be staring distastefully at all the people who passed, giving special glares to those who still openly suspected him of being evil.

Still, Severus was not here, and Harry was standing, alone and uncomfortable in his nicest robes, in the middle of the Great Hall. It seemed every Witch and Wizard of the world was here, celebrating Voldemort's downfall. People he didn't know were coming up to introduce themselves every second, pushing the person he had been chatting with earlier out of the way so they could get their moment with the hero. Harry was tired of talking and meeting new people—he wasn't sure if his head could take another name. There was no way he'd remember any of these people again.

It seemed the others in his group were getting the same treatment, though not to his extreme. Even Draco was surrounded by a crowd of people, though he seemed to love the attention. Hermione was clinging to Ron's arm, afraid that if she let go for one second he would be swept away in the crowd of people and she would be left to face this mob alone. Ron had a terrible hangover, and wished all these people would bugger off—Hermione had refused to give him or Seamus a Pepper-Up potion, saying it would teach them a lesson.

Seamus looked positively ready to kill. Dean, who was standing nearby, was silently laughing at him. Neville was standing off to the side, looking nervous and embarrassed. Harry smiled and shook his head—poor boy.

This had been going on for at least two hours now, and Harry was tired of it. Still, he forced his smile back on for every new person and tried to be as friendly as possible. Severus was almost lucky—he was still unconscious, and he didn't have to deal with this torture. Harry listened politely, nodding and smiling whenever it seemed appropriate. Harry and the group had met with the reporters yesterday, luckily, so he wasn't being bombarded by those rats. He had already recounted the battle (for the hundredth time, it felt), and they had already asked their questions. When they seemed to run out of questions about the Last Battle and the questions strayed towards Severus, Harry had ended the meeting.

It seemed that every single person in the world wanted to meet him—their Savior, whoop-de-do, big deal. Harry smiled at the next person who came up to him—a short, rotund little woman with bright rosy cheeks and the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "Mr. Potter, it is a _pleasure_ to meet you. You've done _so much_ for our world, and I just wanted to say Thank You. Thank you for saving all of us—my children, Zack, Cody and Susan, will always be in your debt for making their world safe. I hope they come here to Hogwarts just like you, Mr. Potter; I would love to see them follow in your footsteps. My husband would have, too. You know, he died trying to fight You-Know-Who. He would be so happy to know you've finished off that evil man."

Harry tuned out her inane chatter after a few seconds. It was the same as everyone else was saying; thank you, blah, blah, you're a wonderful person, yadda, yadda, we'll always be in your debt, etc. You'd think someone would have the guts to say Voldemort's name, too—he was dead, after all. He wouldn't ever threaten them again. Why give him the satisfaction of still fearing him? Instead of pointing this out, Harry smiled and asked a couple questions about her children, then sighed with relief as she was swept away into the crowd.

Harry endured the people for another three hours, and was finally rescued by Hermione. "Come on," she said. "Let's slip out while there's a lull in the people." She was right—there did seem to be fewer people now. Either many had left, or they were out and about the castle, wreaking havoc with their silly, repetitive questions. He hoped Colin wasn't trying to sell pictures of Harry or any of his friends—that would be embarrassing.

Harry gratefully followed Hermione out a side door the teachers often used. It opened into a small room with another door on the other side, which probably let to a hallway or another. "Thanks, 'Mione. I was going to go insane if one more person told me how much they were grateful."

Hermione smiled. "I know how you feel. Ron and I kept being asked if we were going to get married—a hundred people must have suggested wedding plans. Ron kept blushing and stuttering; it was quite funny. To think—they believe we should be making wedding plans in our sixth year." Hermione shook her head and laughed, and Harry laughed with her.

"Anyways, other than rescuing you from hoards of people, I came to get you because Dumbledore wants to talk to you. He's up in the Infirmary with Severus; Draco's already up there, I believe. I'll see you in the Tower, alright?" she said after noticing Harry's worried look. "Severus will be fine. He's probably woken up by now."

Harry nodded, though he didn't really believe her. "Thanks, 'Mione. See you soon." Harry proceeded to walk to the Infirmary in a daze; he didn't really know what he was doing. Suddenly he found himself outside the Infirmary doors. He took a deep breath and braced himself for what he would find inside.

Slowly, Harry opened the door. He could see Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Draco standing around Severus's bed. Dumbledore turned at the sound of the door opening. "There you are, Harry. I was beginning to wonder if the reporters had found you again. Come over here so we can get started."

Harry looked down at Severus, who seemed almost paler than he had yesterday, if possible. He stood next to Draco, hoping to draw comfort from his new friend; they were in the same situation, and it wasn't one either of them had ever wanted to be in.

Pomfrey looked at the two boys sadly before continuing. "As I assume you have probably already guessed, Severus is not doing very well. We had hoped he would wake up by now, but it seems his condition was worse than we originally assumed." No, duh. "Physically, Severus is fine. The effects of the Cruciatus he was placed under have worn off, the cuts and bruises he had suffered are healed, and we can find nothing else wrong with him. But it seems…it seems that Severus does not have the will to wake up."

Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey, tears in his eyes. "What do you mean, he doesn't have the will? As in, he doesn't want to? How could he not want to? I'm here, Draco's here. He _has_ to want to!" Harry's voice was cracking and he could barely get the words out—this was not good.

Dumbledore stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "The last Severus knew, you were dead from Tom's killing curse, and Draco's status was undefined. He may not know you are both safe."

"What is more," Pomfrey started, "is that if Severus does not wake up soon—say, the next month or so—he may—"

"_Don't_ say it," interrupted Draco harshly. His wand was out and pointed at the school nurse, ready to hex her if she finished her sentence.

Tears were streaming unabated down Harry's face now. Draco, though not crying (Malfoys do _not_ cry—in public, at least), was paler than thought possible and shaking slightly all over.

"I will leave you boys alone with Severus. Let us pray you can wake him up." Dumbledore motioned to Madame Pomfrey, and the two adults left the room. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and picked up Severus's hand, stroking it slowly. "Severus. Wake up. Please?" Harry's voice was watery and desperate.

Draco blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back. "He'll wake up."

Harry looked up at Draco. "How can you be sure? He's…you heard Pomfrey."

"Severus is too stubborn to leave this world just because he has no reason to live. He'll wake up. I'll kill him if he doesn't."

Draco turned around and stormed out of the room, leaving a desolate Harry. Harry stretched himself out next to Severus on the bed. He rested one hand under his head and the other on Severus's chest. He stared at Severus's face for an untold amount of time—it was so pale and thin. Harry let his tears soak the pillow underneath his head.

Finally, Madame Pomfrey came into the room and gently persuaded Harry to return to his dorm. "I will let you know when Severus wakes. Get some rest—you need it. You've had a long few days. Severus will not be happy if I let you die of exhaustion while he was sleeping."

"You'll get me if something happens?" Harry asked sleepily. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't have the strength to argue right now.

Madame Pomfrey nodded and sent Harry on his way. Harry didn't remember the walk up to the tower, or changing his clothes, or collapsing on his bed. All he remembered was the deathly paleness of Severus's face.

* * *

A/N: Yes, this chapter was short. Yes, it was a horrible chapter. No, I'm not going to change the ending just to make all of you happy. And yes, you will all be happy at the end of the story. Next chapter's the last, I think. Wow…scarey… 


	24. Good Dreams

A/N: This is it! The last chapter! I hope you all have enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'll try to write a sequel…but right now, I don't have many ideas for it that I like. So if you have an idea, or maybe something you'd like to see in the next story, please leave a review and let me know!

Thanks for all the reviews I've received throughout this story. They've made my day many times over, and I can only be thankful that I've had such wonderful people reading my story. I would love for you all to read the next story I put out, which I already have part-written and will be posted almost immediately after this.

**I LOVE YOU ALL!**

Chapter 24

* * *

Harry silently walked to the Infirmary in his daily routine. Every morning, Harry walked to the Infirmary to greet Severus and wish him a wonderful morning. At lunch, Harry would again visit Severus to see how he was doing. In the evening, as it was now, Harry would take his books and things with him to do homework by Severus's bedside. Madame Pomfrey had learned not to bother him—that only resulted in a glaring look and scathing words. Dumbledore had told her to let Harry carry on with his routine, so he was left undisturbed. 

Every once in a while, Draco silently joined him for a little while. He had been coming less and less lately, though—Severus's inability to wake up had taken a heavy toll on him. Tonight, Harry was alone with Severus. Even Pomfrey had left, as it was her evening off.

Harry began telling Severus about his day, about how Severus's classes were going, about any other interesting things that happened in the school, as usual. He was determined that Severus would wake up, and equally determined that Severus could hear him. He didn't care that Pomfrey constantly reminded him that Severus could not hear or respond—he just wanted to talk to Severus. When Severus didn't respond, though, Harry was always reduced to tears—what he wouldn't give to hear that deep, calming voice once again. What he wouldn't give to hear the scathing remarks or sarcastic jokes.

Tears began falling down Harry's cheeks, and he hadn't even begun talking. "Hey Sev." Harry forced his voice to steady itself, and the next sentence didn't have half as much of a quiver. "Today was okay. I miss you, of course, but it wasn't worse than any other. Neville accidentally transfigured Professor McGonagall into a crow while trying to transform a feather. The look on her face was priceless. Draco and I went to the lake today, too. We talked about you, and about what we'll do this summer." The conversation went on in the same manner for a long while. Harry's voice cracked only three more times.

Once Harry had told Severus of his day, he settled down to his homework. First Charms, then Transfiguration. Care of Magical Creatures, etc. It went on and on. Harry looked up regularly to check on Severus, though he knew deep inside himself that nothing had changed. He found himself staring at Severus for long periods of time, forgetting that he had homework to be completed (his teachers had wisely neglected to mention the sharp decline in the quality of his work) until he was suddenly jerked back to reality by some noise or another.

At quarter to eleven—long past curfew—Harry finally put his books down, finished with the work he had to complete. Then, as usual, he moved himself to sit on the edge of Severus's bed. Taking the pale, cold, lifeless hand, Harry gently kissed the long fingers and let the silent tears streaming from his eyes drip onto Severus's flesh.

"I love you, Severus," Harry whispered. "Wake up, please." There was no response from Severus, and the tears began coming faster and more frequently.

This would usually be the time Harry would gather his things and bid Severus goodnight. Tonight, though, he couldn't. He couldn't leave Severus. Exams started in two days—school was quickly drawing to an end. It had been three weeks since the final battle had ended; most of the Death Eaters were rounded up, and there were no longer skirmishes of fighting. Voldemort was old news, and there were very few headlines concerning anything to do with him—even the 'Boy Who Lived Twice' was left out of the papers (for the most part). Harry didn't mind that, though; he was always happy to forget his fame once in a while.

The only thing that mattered now was Severus. And soon, Harry would have to leave. The school would close, as it did yearly, and Harry would be whisked away to his relatives. He would live there until he finally turned seventeen over the summer and became an adult; then he would move to Grimmauld Place and live there for the rest of summer.

But none of that involved Severus, because Severus hadn't woken up yet. Dumbledore had already informed Harry that he would not be allowed to stay over the summer, and he would only be able to visit rarely. The wards were going to be reinforced over the summer, as usual, and no matter how much Harry promised to remain out of the way, Dumbledore could not have a student roaming the halls. Harry would be forced to leave Severus in the care of Madame Pomfrey. Even though the mediwitch promised to keep him informed of any changes or the lack of changes, Harry couldn't stand that. He needed to see everything for himself—he needed to see Severus cold, pale, lifeless face and touch his unmoving body.

Harry stretched himself out next to Severus, resting his head on the pillow next to his lover. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be back until the morning, and Harry planned to take full advantage of that. He wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with Severus, to make up for whatever time might be lost.

Harry had a dreadful feeling in his stomach. Severus should have woken up by now—he should be holding Harry right now, promising that the Dursleys would be punished severely if a single hair was harmed on Harry's head. Severus should be kissing him gently, promising he would visit, and maybe even come to live at Grimmauld place for a short period of time. He should be here to reprimand Harry for not being in his rooms after curfew. Or something, at least.

Harry's will to live lessened every day. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive without Severus. Severus was his life force. Harry could feel himself dying with Severus, could feel his life force ebb away.

"Severus," Harry whispered, desperate. "Severus, I need you. You know how close the end of school is." Harry slowly stroked Severus's chin, his fingers running over smooth, cold skin. "I can feel you slipping away from me. Every day, your fingers seem colder. Every day, I can feel the life drain from your body. And the more I lose you, the more I lose myself. I don't eat any more, unless 'Mione makes me. Ron has to force me to do things—usually I just sit around. I don't go out flying any more. I don't really care. The only time I go outside, actually, is when I go out with Draco to talk. Mostly about you. He's lost, too—he loves you, almost as much as I do. He needs you to support him, especially since his family is no longer around to do so. Never has been, really. But that's not the point. The point is, he needs you as much as I do, and I need you so badly, you can't even begin to imagine."

The tears had soaked the pillow beneath Harry's head by now, but he hadn't noticed. He didn't really care. Harry gently placed a chaste kiss on Severus's cheek. "I miss you so much. I imagine I hear your voice, sometimes, or see you rounding a corner. But I know you're always up here, not moving, not speaking."

Harry placed another chaste kiss on Severus's face. "I can't remember how you taste anymore. That scares me." Another kiss. "And I've almost forgotten what your voice is like." The tears were now falling on Severus's face, creating little rivulets that ran down his cheeks, almost as if Severus himself were crying.

"Come back to me, please," Harry whispered even quieter, his voice cracking with his desperateness. "If you don't come back, I'll follow you." Harry knew that if Severus died, Harry would follow him to death. But he didn't want that to happen—he wanted Severus to wake up so they could spend the rest of their years together. He wanted to live happily with the man he loved so much.

For a moment, Harry thought he had seen recognition cross Severus's face, as if he had understood all the words Harry said and agreed to come back. Harry thought he saw Severus's eyes twitch, his lips curve up into a gentle smile. But then Harry blinked, and the illusion was gone. Severus's face was set just as stoically as it had been five minutes ago. Harry broke down, sobs racking his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Severus's still, lifeless body.

Harry fell into a restless sleep after crying, the tears still soaking into the pillow he shared with Severus.

* * *

Harry sighed and smiled as he dreamed. This was one of the good dreams—one where Severus woke up and was with him, not the other kind, where Severus died and haunted Harry, blaming everything on him. 

In the dream, Harry was laying next to Severus, breathing in his calming scent. Severus's fingers weaved through his hair slowly, soothing Harry's nerves. The other hand was wrapped around Harry, drawing him closer. Harry snuggled closer, reveling in the warm, responsive body. Severus was whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and Harry almost giggled as he felt Severus's breath mingle on his face.

Harry moved so he was straddling Severus and began kissing him deeply. His tongue snaked into Severus's mouth, and his hands roamed all over Severus's body. Harry giggled as Severus bit his bottom lip and blood came out. It was a little painful, but that didn't matter; the pain only made it more realistic. Harry deepened the kiss and—wait…painful?

Harry jerked back to look at Severus. "I'm awake?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "By the active part you are taking in this fun we're having, I'd say that's an accurate deduction."

Harry's eyes widened, then let up with joy. "I'm awake! You're awake!"

Harry leaned down to kiss Severus hungrily, though not as he had before; the previous kiss had been full of teenage lust—this one was full of passion and joy and love for the man that just woken up.

Harry felt as if he was going to wake up any moment now, only to realize that Severus was still asleep and lifeless. Harry kissed harder, just in case he woke up; he didn't want to miss a single thing.

But Harry wasn't asleep, and he wasn't going to wake up. Severus wasn't asleep. Severus wasn't pale or lifeless. He was far from it—he was awake, alive, and smiling at Harry. Harry broke away from his kissing for a moment to examine Severus. He looked up to meet the bright, vivid, charcoal-black eyes of his lover and nearly let out a whoop of joy. Severus was awake!

He could not express to Severus—or even himself—how completely happy he was. Harry began kissing Severus's face—his eyes, his nose, chin, forehead, cheek—everything he could reach, before he finally kissed Severus full on the mouth yet again—Merlin, it was so good to taste him again.

Harry hungrily devoured Severus's mouth, reveling in the taste he had forgotten in the past three weeks. Somewhere, there was a nagging suspicion that this was all a dream—then Severus bit his bottom lip, and Harry reveled in the pain that revealed this was not all a dream.

After many long minutes that Harry thought not long enough, Severus pulled back. He looked up at Harry and Harry thought he would drown in those beautiful eyes.

"If I knew I would get that reaction every time I fell asleep, I might do it more often," chuckled Severus.

"You will do no such thing. You had me so worried, Sev." Harry smiled gently and leaned forward to place yet another kiss on those thin, beautiful lips.

After long moments, Harry reached out a tentative hand to touch Severus's face—just to reassure himself it was there. Severus reached up and grasped the hand firmly, pressing it against his cheek. "You're…awake," Harry whispered, awe, relief and passion mixing in his voice.

"I never would have guessed, Harry."

Harry leaned down and kissed Severus chastely. "It's so good to hear you talk, Sev," he said, resting his forehead against Severus's.

Severus gave Harry a questioning look. "How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks or so." Severus's eyes widened, if only slightly. "We…we didn't know if you would wake up." Harry's voice cracked, and tears welled up in his eyes. "But you have. You're awake, right? You're going to stay awake?"

Severus smiled and wiped away the single tear that had leaked out of Harry's eyes. "Of course. So school's almost out? My classes must be suffering greatly. It will be hell next year, catching all the years up on three weeks of missed classes."

"The person Dumbledore called in seems to have been doing a good job—he just followed your teaching schedule to the letter, I think."

"I don't have a teaching schedule."

"Yes you do. Well, actually, Dumbledore has one. He says you've taught the same potions in the same order for at least fifteen years now, and he took the liberty to write the order down one year."

"Meddling old codger. Smart, but meddling."

Harry smiled. "It's so good to have you back, Severus."

"You keep saying that, as if I weren't coming back."

Harry's eyes clouded over. "You weren't, Severus. I was going to leave in a week, and I knew that if I left, you wouldn't come back. Pomfrey even said so."

Severus pulled Harry down into an embrace, tucking Harry's head neatly under his chin. Harry lay down, happy to let his head stay right where it was. Severus was so warm and responsive—so completely unlike the past few weeks. "You really think I'd leave you?"

Harry shook his head, unable to say anything. Instead, he just lay there, unable to believe that Severus had actually woken up—the knowledge made him so happy it was overwhelming. Tears of joy were streaming down his face, and Harry didn't even want to stop them—he didn't care if he was crying; he was too happy.

After what seemed to be seconds but must have been minutes, Severus asked, "What has happened while I was gone?"

Harry could tell from the tone of voice that Severus didn't like losing three weeks of his life, but had already accepted it as unchangeable. Harry couldn't blame him—he would like being knocked out for three weeks, either.

"So much. What do you remember?"

"I remember seeing you, dead. Fighting Voldemort. Then pain, and then nothing. How did—how did you make it? I saw him cast the killing curse; I held your head in my hands. You weren't alive."

Harry nodded. "I was, but barely. Your love—that's what kept me alive. Like my mom did when I was a baby, you kept me alive when Voldemort tried killing me. That's the only way I can explain it—that's the only way Dumbledore or the best magical experts can explain it, too. It was a miracle. And your love." Severus nodded, but didn't say anything, so Harry continued.

"I woke up just before Voldemort was going to strike the final blow. I just…exploded, I guess. All my magical energy lashed out when I saw him about to kill you…and all that was left was some scorched ground and a really bad smell. I don't remember anything until I woke up a few days later."

"Congratulations, Harry. You no longer have to worry about anything having to do with the Dark Lord again."

"Say it again, Sev."

"What? You never have to—"

"No, the other part. I missed you saying my name."

Severus smiled gently. "Harry. I love you, Harry. Thank you for rescuing me and for being here when I woke up. Now continue with your story—I have a lot of time to catch up on."

Harry smiled. "Well, we had a big party two days after I woke up. It was absolutely boring—just a lot people that wanted to thank me, meet me, shake my hand, etc. You would have hated it, because you would have been required to be there. All the people involved in the Last Battle were, and I think the entire wizarding world showed up to thank us and so forth. People actually asked about you, too."

"You're right. I would have hated that. But why would people ask about me?"

Harry shrugged. "They forgave you. Word got out quickly that you sacrificed your life to save mine, and slowly, people began accepting that you loved me. Fudge, the bastard, was actually trying to condemn your actions, though I'm not sure why—he was trying to convince the people you were still a Death Eater at heart, and you would never change. That we couldn't trust you, no matter what you did. He even tried sprouting some nonsense about you wanting to take Voldemort's place and rule the wizarding world. But the people didn't believe that—Hermione and Ron and the others made sure of it. They kept telling the media and press about how you saved my life, and were losing your own. By this time, everyone knew you were in a coma and it didn't look good. You have lots of sympathy mail, by the way. I opened a couple letters—there are a lot of people that want to apologize for hating you earlier."

"Like I need their approval to love you."

"That's what I said. But they still sent the letters, and I think it was a nice gesture. At least we know you won't be shunned every day you go out in public, now. What's more, with all the hubbub about you going on, Fudge was forced to give a formal pardon to you. You have been fully forgiven for being a former Death Eater, and the wizarding world has given an official apology to the way we were treated when the world found out about our relationship. They went all out with the ceremony, and there's going to be some official presenting of the award sometime after you wake up, or something like that."

"Maybe we should keep my waking a secret for a while. I don't want a ceremony. It might have been better to be asleep."

Harry's head shot up, his eyes clouded with anger. "Do _not_ say that. I almost lost you, Severus. I do not want even to _think_ that might happen again."

Severus smiled gently and cupped Harry's cheek in one hand. "Don't worry—you're what's preventing me from slipping quietly back and pretending this whole waking-up-thing never happened. I won't leave you, Harry."

"Good." Harry settled back on Severus's chest, content that Severus wasn't regretting waking up. "A lot's happened since you fell into the coma. The party, this formal forgiving thing. There were a few more skirmishes, but most of the Death Eaters have been captured, put on trial, and sentenced to life in Azkaban. Draco's doing, well, too. He really misses you—almost as much as me, if not just as much as. He'll be so happy to hear you've woken up."

"I'll be happy to see him, too. What about his parents?"

"In Azkaban, thank goodness. He even served as a witness for their trial. He's happy they're gone, and since he's almost seventeen, he's about to inherit all their fortunes. He says he'll buy a house somewhere or another after he sells everything he inherits that he doesn't want. He wants to get as far away from his memories of them as he can."

"I'm not really surprised."

"Should I send for him? We can always call a house elf to wake him up. I'm sure he wants to see you."

Severus rolled so he was on his side, looking down onto Harry. "No. I'd much rather be right here, just with you, for now. I'll see him in the morning, I'm sure, and we'll talk about everything we need to talk about. But that can wait."

"Good. Because I don't want anyone else here."

There was a long moment of silence, then Severus spoke up. He had been thinking on this for quite a while, but he hadn't wanted to bring it up until the time was right. Now seemed to be as good a time as any, though. "Harry. I know you might not always enjoy hearing it…but you really do look so much like your father."

Harry smiled. "So I've been told."

"But you should know that though you have the same tendency to get into trouble as he did…you are so much more like your mother on the inside. James dumped be just because I made a poor choice, but you embraced that poor choice as part of me…and you love me all the more for it. That's so much like you're mother—she was so wonderful at picking out the best traits in people and accepting and even embracing those traits."

"Anyone who does not take the time to look past your mistakes is at a sore loss for not knowing the wonderful person you are, Sev. I wouldn't be the same without you. Wow, that sounded corny."

"Yes, it did. But thank you, anyways."

Severus kissed Harry gently. Though he didn't remember the past few weeks, he felt as if he hadn't seen Harry in such a long time—and it was true. He didn't realize his lack of Harry mentally, but physically, his body was yearning for the touch of that young boy he loved so much.

"I missed you," whispered Severus.

"The feelings are mutual," Harry murmured back. "But I have to leave in a week."

Severus frowned. "Oh, yes. The Headmaster's never let anyone stay, has he? The whole wards-rebuilt thing. I always hated that."

Harry let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah. I take it he's used the same excuse for ages now."

Severus nodded. "It's always the same. Are you going back to your relatives?"

Harry's eyes clouded. "Yes. Even though the war's over, I'm not legally an adult yet, so I have to stay with them. But when I turn seventeen this summer, I'm going to go to Grimmauld Place to live. I'll never have to see them again."

"Well that's good. I'll be there to greet you. And if they even _think_ about hurting you or treating you poorly—"

Harry smiled and cut of Severus's sentence with a kiss. "I know. You'll maim them in ways they never thought possible. Thank you, Sev."

Severus smiled. Harry laughed, though he didn't know why—it was probably just all the joy swelling up inside of him. He couldn't hold back the joy he felt, that was for sure. Severus was awake, Voldemort was dead and gone, and life could finally move on.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I tend to have slight problems killing off beloved people. I'm too much of a romantic to kill Sev and leave Harry all alone. So there's your final chapter. Personally, I can't believe it's over. The next fic up will probably be HD, until I can think of a sequel for this (please give me your ideas!). Expect new fic by tomorrow, 6/29. 

**Please, Johnny and I would love your last thoughts on our story**—we've worked so hard to come this far. Johnny's spent hours slaving over it! So please review—if you love me, you'll put me well over 600! I know you can do it!


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